


When the scientist becomes the subject

by ChickInRed, Ikara



Category: Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles (TV 2012)
Genre: Blood and Gore, Dark and Twisted, I'm Serious, M/M, Mad Scientists, Pain, Recovery, Revenge, Suffering, This has given people nightmares, Violence, Why does no one believe me?, You Have Been Warned, tcest
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-11
Updated: 2018-08-04
Packaged: 2018-08-14 12:58:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 36
Words: 162,609
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8014948
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChickInRed/pseuds/ChickInRed, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ikara/pseuds/Ikara
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Donnie's been missing for over a year, and in that time his brothers find comfort and love in one another, but when they finally track down and save their genius brother, they find he's far more lost to them then they could ever imagine. Can they save him from the tortures he's endured? Or will he remain lost to them forever...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Intro

**Author's Note:**

> They say art can speak to you, that every picture tells a story. Well, after finding a series of pictures on DA, I was given permission to give them said story.  
> Every chapter will be labeled with an appropriate warning when necessary. Sit back and get ready for the ride, because its only just begun.  
> Inspired by MetalLatias5 http://metalatias5.deviantart.com/gallery/49885199/WTSBTS

Feathered darts peppered the air as Donatello and his brothers ran. It had been a trap, a great big giant trap set up by, by _someone._ It wasn’t the Purple Dragons, not the Shredder or any of his men either, it was far too elaborate, calculating and most terrifyingly of all, good, to be either of them.

They were lucky to have escaped, lucky that Donatello noticed right before the nets were shot, just what was going on. Now they were running across the roof tops for their lives, a group of men hunting just behind them, hunting _them._

“This way!” yelled Leonardo, tossing a smoke bomb right as he turned, Raph on his heels down onto a fire escape at the edge of a roof top.

Donatello was just about to follow, when he heard Mikey yelp. 

He whipped around, already guessing at what had happened and caught his baby brother as he fell.

“Dude,” Mikey yelped, his attempts to stand failing as his leg went limp, “I can’t feel my leg!”

He looked up at Donnie, his baby blue eyes wide with fear. A cracking sound split the air, a shadow loomed over them, and Donatello knew what was coming. He had no choice.

In a split second decision he tightened his grip around his brother, spun, and used the momentum to launch Michelangelo into the air, and as far away from him as possible.

The net hit Donnie within seconds of letting go, slamming him into the ground with the force of one of Tigerclaw’s kicks. It wrapped around him, snapping his limbs in tight until he couldn’t move, and then, pain. His muscles clenched, his mouth opening in a scream as electricity surged through him.

“Donnie!” he heard one of his brothers yell, when something hard slammed into his temple and drove his face into the cement. 

The whole world spun, the pain only increasing. 

“Run!” he managed to scream, when whatever hit him slammed again, and everything went dark.


	2. Ch. 2

 

It had been over a year since they last saw their brother, wrapped up and screaming in an electric net as the men who hunted them bore down on him, but now they were close, so close they could almost taste their victory.

Six shadows slid across the bleach white walls, gliding unseen as they shifted past doors, some locked, others cracked, the stench of blood and strange chemicals wafting out from them.

“The directions say he should be just up ahead in room one twenty-two, we’ll pass cages, but not to engage unless Donatello is in one, regardless of what we might see.” Came the sound of Rockwell’s voice, so loud in the silence that surrounded them, that even though he whispered, Leonardo still felt a need to quiet him.

“Remember what they said.” Leo whispered, his hands tightening around his weapons as room number one twenty-two came within sight, “Silence will get us further, the cameras might be down, but the ones in the hall still respond to loud noises. Use that brain you’re so proud of and hush.”

They’d come too far to screw up now, their ‘inside man’ preparing them for days until this very moment could be reached. Their brother was just beyond that door, just a few feet away, and like hell if a slightly raised voice was going to lose them the opportunity to see Donnie again.

As they reached the door, Leo motioned for April to come forward.

She knew her job and she did it well, her eyes closed as she scanned for any sign of life beyond the door.

One nod from her and Rockwell was up, the hovering ape with the codes that had allowed them access to the heart of the building and so far, had opened every door without fail.

Leonardo looked back at his brothers, April and then Casey, as Rockwell worked. They all had their weapons out and ready, a fearful anticipation glinting in their eyes as they waited for the door to open. They all wanted to find and save Donatello from this, whatever it was.

Their inside man hadn’t exactly been specific since they first contacted April, the only information they were willing to divulge being that the longer they took to trust him, the worse it would become for their brother.

They didn’t trust him, not at all, and probably never would’ve if it hadn’t been for the proof of life; a vile of fresh blood, barely two hours old, that Rockwell confirmed was Donatello’s. All they could do now was hope their inside man wasn’t leading them into a trap, and that this person truly wished to see their brother free from this awful place.

The door clicked, and Rockwell pushed it open, the codes once again granting them unfettered access.

The monkey hovered aside, and Leo signaled for them to follow.

Heart pounding, he slid through the door, keeping his carapace to the wall, and kept an eye on the room while the rest of his team slunk in.

It was dark, the only light coming from three green glowing tubes of mutagen that seemed to stretch from floor to ceiling along the right side of the wall. The room itself was huge, white like everything else, with shelves of bottles and books that lined the room along with glass fronted cages of every size. There were monitors, looming machines that Leo didn’t recognize or understand, and worst of all, he could smell his brother above the chemical stench that lingered in the air, stale yet so full of fear.

“Check the cages on that side.” Murmured Leo, nodding to Raph and then the far wall, “You check the others.” He said to Mikey, before turning his attention to April, Casey and Rockwell, “Rockwell, you go through the computers, find where Donnie is and then destroy as many files as you can. April, try and sense where Donnie is. Casey, you’re with me.”

They split up as ordered, all of them darting around the room in search for Donatello.

Leo had his eye on the far side of the lab where a large monitor was adhered to the wall. He had thought he’d seen an image of a turtle from a distance and wanted to inspect it up close.

“Yo, this is sick,” murmured Casey, pausing beside what looked like an examination table in the center of the room, “It’s like something right out of Frankenstein.”

Leo stopped as he reached the monitor, sure enough finding a full body image of Donatello across its screen. He didn’t understand a word that was beside it, nor did he recognize the blips and readings that were constantly changing across it. Nowhere on it did it mention where Donatello was, and if it did, then it certainly wasn’t in English.

“Fascinating.” He heard Rockwell murmur, and Leo’s attention was ripped off the screen and over onto the hovering chimp, now stationed at a U shaped desk that was lined with computers.

“All of his files are right here.” Rockwell continued, “Every single one, hard copy as well as digital, all cataloged by date going all the way back to the day he was captured. This, ‘inside man’ most certainly took care of gathering his things in order, all I need to do now is hack the system and…” he trailed off, blinking his bugged out eyes for a moment as though he weren’t sure exactly what it was he was seeing. Only, he wasn’t really looking at anything, at least not really.

“April,” he called, glancing over at April still standing stock still in the center of the room. “Do tell me you’re not sensing that…”

Leo stiffened, “Sensing what?” he demanded.

Slowly April’s eyes opened, her hands moving away from her temple to wrap instead around her chest. She looked horrified, wide eyed in terror as though she’d seen a ghost.

“He’s in pain.” She whispered, her voice trembling, “He’s here, and he’s in so much pain.”

Raph appeared from the shadows, his teeth gritted and fists clenched around his Sais. “Ok then where is he?! He’s not in any of the cages. Just some freaky looking worm thing and a dead plant. If this is a trap…”

“Guys! I found his Bo staff!” called Mikey from a far off corner, “And his bandanna, I think?”

“Good, then grab it. We’re not leaving anything of him behind.” Said Leo, before he turned back to Rockwell and April, determined this time for answers.

“Where is he?” he asked, but all Dr. Rockwell did was shake his head before diving back down to the computer.

“I’m hacking as fast as I can. He may have been moved or…”

“No.” said April firmly, her eyes closing and hands returning to her temple as she searched again, “He’s in this room. He’s- he’s _here_ , he’s just…he’s hurt.”

Leo’s heart clenched at those words, his gaze flicking around to Raph, Casey, and Mikey as he walked up with Donatello’s things. “But he’s not.” He snapped almost impatiently, “He’s not in any of the cages.”

“One moment.” Interrupted Rockwell, “Let me get the lights on in here. They’re activated by key card only, but I’m sure I’ll be able to bypass the coding and…ah, here we are.”

One by one the room lit up, illuminating jars and vials, wires and tubes, and sharp pointed instruments and blades that had Leo’s skin crawling. He didn’t want to know what those monsters did here, he only wanted to find his brother, help him, and get the hell out.

He attempted to force himself to scan the room again, finding no sign of his brother, and found himself seeking Raphael’s or Mikey’s gaze instead. He wanted the comfort, he needed it, for deep down he realized exactly what kind of place it was their brother had been kept in for all this time.

Michelangelo was clutching Donnie’s Bo Staff, a blood stained purple cloth dangling down from between his fingers. He was staring at the examination table, his face filled with worry and fear as his wide blue eyes went over the straps and the thin but definite claw marks that had been scratched into the metal.

Raphael met his gaze the moment Leo laid eyes on him, his fury and yet pain leaking out in a single glance that had Leo’s heart clenching all over again. The red banded turtle opened his mouth, about to speak, when April let out a shriek that had Leo spinning on the spot.

Weapons raised, Leo spun to face the new threat, only to freeze, every inch of him growing rigid as he found himself gazing upon a sight that had come to them all only as nightmares.

The giant tubes that Leo had dismissed as mutagen had lights at their bases, all three slowly flickering on the moment the lights had been accessed. The one on the right was empty, the one on the left was the same, but the center one, it had something in it alright.

Donatello floated in its green depths, covered in tubes and wires, some down his throat, others in his nose, a strange mask stuck to his face to hold them all in place. There were needles, other tubes sticking out from under his tail and from within the hidden pocket that held their member, and strange suction cup looking things that dotted his arms and legs.

“Aw, man.” Murmured Casey, “That would be so cool if that wasn’t Donatello.”

Leo’s fists clenched. “Get him out.” He snapped, marching around the desk and up to the tank that held his brother. “Rockwell, get him out!”

“Leonardo, I know this is alarming, but you need to be patient!” answered Rockwell, the sound of his fingers flying across a keyboard reaching his ears.

A three fingered hand gripped his shoulder. “Maybe we should smash it.” Growled Raph, coming up beside him with his lip curled in disgust.

“Now hold on a moment.” Snapped Rockwell, “We don’t know what it is or what’s been done to him. For all we know that machine may be the only thing keeping Donatello alive. If we smash it, it could signal an alarm, or it could very well _kill_ Donatello. Is that what you want?!”

“Anything is better than here.”

The whisper that came from Michelangelo was so soft that Leo almost missed it, and when he turned to find his baby brother, he found him still standing where they had left him, clutching Donnie’s things with his gaze transfixed on Donatello floating in the tank.

Leo knew that look, a horrified immobilizing one that normally entered Raph’s face when he was confronted with a cockroach. Mikey needed a task to distract him, something to keep his mind off of the horror of seeing Donnie like this.

“Mikey, April.” Called Leo, “Get the files together and ready to go, Casey, keep an eye on the doors, and Rockwell…”

The floating chimp growled under his breath before Leo had a chance to finish, his fingers still flying across the keyboard as document after document popped up across the computer’s screen. “I understand that we have limited time and all options must be taken into consideration, but according to my findings, and trust me when I say they are not complete, Donatello has surpassed his pain threshold and they are currently experimenting with a cocktail of drugs to see just how much his body can take. I presume this machine is keeping him in a comatose state while he endures this experiment, and removing him from it could shock his system and kill him! I estimate a seventy percent chance of survival if we remove him gradually, something we don’t have time to do, and a twenty percent chance of survival if we cut him cold turkey. We may have to consider abandoning the rescue until…”

“No!” Snapped Leo, and Raph’s grip tightened around his shoulder. He sheathed his swords and stood up straighter, his glare fixed on the back of the monkey’s head. “If he dies, then he dies _free._ He’s not staying here any longer.”

Whipping back to Raph, Leo motioned to the glass, “Smash it.” He ordered, only to be interrupted by Rockwell once again.

“Hang on, just hang on!” he pleaded, “At least let me turn the damn sensors off.”

Leo felt Raphael tense again, and it was everything Leo could do not to get just as angry and upset.

“The glass is riddled with them.” The chimp explained, “One ding against its side and you’ll set off every alarm in this building. Thankfully our inside man thought ahead and gave us a failsafe. Should an alarm be triggered, or need to be triggered, we simply plug this card in.” he held up a plastic card that, from a distance, looked to Leo like some sort of microchip. “And it will disable everything, lights and backup generators included.”

“Well why the hell didn’t we do that before!?” snarled Raph, and Leo could feel him flexing, the urge to lash out and inflict pain at anyone who dared push him no doubt growing strong.

Dr. Rockwell however, simply sighed, pushing the little chip card into a slot on the computer. “Because,” he murmured, “Should the generators fail to kick on in the case of a power outage, the building is set to self-destruct. We will have ten minutes to evacuate the building.”

All of a sudden the lights went out, the whole room humming as the machines around them slowly died, plunging them into darkness.

“Starting now.”

Leo’s mind reeled, but it didn’t stop his resolve. “Smash it!” he ordered, and he felt Raph leave him.

Someone somewhere flicked on the light on their T-phone, illuminating the tube with Donnie still inside, Raphael’s fist slammed into the glass, cracking it but not enough to break it.

As Raph pulled back, Leo spun on his heel and slammed into the container, splintering the glass some more, yet still it didn’t yield.

He was about to turn and kick again, when Casey Jones let out a yell.

“GOONGALA!”

Leo had enough time to redirect his kick into a leap and dart out of the way as Casey came crashing down with a hockey stick in hand. One crack against the glass and the whole thing shattered, spitting out a torrential wave of yuck that sent the yelping idiot smacking straight into the floor.

Any other time Leo would’ve scolded him, but not this time, he was far too busy climbing around the glass up into the container, his arms snapping around his dangling brother to keep him upright. “Raph!” he snapped, when the dead weight in his arms suddenly lessened.

“I have him.” Said Rockwell, “Just give me two seconds and I’ll have everything disconnected. The less trauma you two cause him the better.”

“Ew.” Groaned Casey, just visible in the light as he sat up and tossed hunks of glass off his lap, “It’s all sticky and weird, and, and in _everything,_ man.”

True to his word, two seconds was all Rockwell needed, the tubes and lines disconnecting and pulling gently away from Donnie’s body one by one until all of them were gone.

Raph was at Donnie’s side now too, his strong arms moving to tug the taller turtle onto his back.

“Mikey, April, Casey, Rockwell.” Snapped Leo as he helped hoist Donnie up, “Get your weapons out and ready, we’re moving.”

Once Raph had Donnie, the two of them leapt down, careful to avoid the glass as they darted after the group.

“Rockwell, you lead!” he yelled, “April, keep your mind focused, tell us if anyone’s coming, and dangit Casey next time when I say to do something, I expect you to do it! Mikey, you cover Raph, I’ll take the flank.”

They moved into formation just as he ordered, darting down the halls as quickly as Raph could move with their unconscious brother on his back. It had taken them twenty minutes in total to move through the building before, but now they’d have to do it in less than half of that. At least this time they didn’t need to worry about moving slow, and actually, they were starting to make good time, when Leo’s phone buzzed in his belt.

He snatched it up but didn’t stop running, knowing exactly who it had to be without looking. “We got him,” he said into the speaker, “We’re on our way out, get ready to move.”

_“That’s nice.”_ A harsh voice snapped, _“Leo, I swear, if you ever leave me with this stupid gecko again, I’m going to slit his throat and dump him in the river!”_

Letting out a sigh, Leo shook his head and groaned, “Just hang on Karai, we’ll be there in a minute. Keep the front cleared.”

_“Oh really?”_ asked Karai, _“And how am I going to do that exactly? Whatever stunt you pulled in there has the whole building swarming. We can’t exactly do that and be nice like all of you want Leo…”_

“Who said anything about being nice?” Leo growled, “Take them out and clear a path for us, using any means necessary.”

_“Any?”_ she repeated, sounding a bit surprised, and Leo nodded, his eyes hardening as he focused on the back of Donatello’s shell.”

“Let me correct that.” He growled, “Take them out, and clear a path, using _extreme_ prejudice.”

An amused snort flitted through his T-phone’s speaker, _“You hear that big boys!?”_ she yelled, _“Take’em out! And don’t let me catch you holding back.”_

Very rarely did their foes meet death, something that their master taught them long ago should only be implemented if they had no other means of escape. Sensei would be upset, more than likely highly disappointed that he’d allowed thoughts of revenge to cloud his mind; but then again, Master Splinter wasn’t there, and he certainly wasn’t the one currently carrying their possibly dying brother who’d been living as a test subject in some freak’s lab for the last year and a half…

If his blades didn’t have blood on them by the end of the night, then he was going to be extremely disappointed.


	3. Ch. 3

His head was throbbing, and the bumps weren’t helping, each one thunking his head against the cold steel he was laying against.

Why weren’t one of his brothers holding him like they usually did when one of them was injured? It was a rule; hold the head and keep the neck still in case of injury.

Donatello’s eyes cracked, a sharp light stabbing at him the moment he tried to see.

“Guys?” he croaked, shifting a little in an attempt to sit up, when a voice he didn’t recognize rang through the air.

“Oi, I thought you said you sedated it.”

“I did,” came another, “I clocked it hard enough, the damn thing was out.”

Slowly Donatello remembered. The electric net, the darts, the people who were hunting him…He’d been captured.

“I meant with an actual sedative, you dolt.” Snapped the first voice.

It was male, with an accent, maybe British, but not sophisticated, more like a thug, heavy and drawling with no attempt at fluidity.

Donnie did his best to sit up again, looking away from the light that seemed purposefully aimed for his face. Everything was stiff, his muscles aching and tired as though he’d run a full night. He could tell he was in a cage, metal from top to bottom, big enough for him to sit up in, with what appeared to be two entrances; one at the front and one at the back.

“How the hell was I supposed to do that?” snapped the other voice; male, older and a bit gruff. “They were like fricking ninjas, darting everywhere with throwing knives, shooting the darts back at us, deflecting the nets. That one was a bulldozer, ready to plow us over to get its buddy back. Like hell I was going to stop running for five minutes to load up a syringe and stick the fuck with it. Next time you can stop to get the shit beaten out of you to sedate it!”

As they bickered, Donnie’s gaze rested on the metal bars of his cage, quickly examining every corner and inch for a sign of weakness, a flaw, anything. He could hear the hum of electricity, no doubt wired into the cage doors on either side.

He reached down to his belt to find something to redirect the flow, only to realize his belt was gone.

_‘Damnit.’_ He thought, _‘That only means one thing, I’ll have to rely on these egg heads to let me out.’_

With a groan, Donatello leaned up against the cage wall, lifted a foot, and kicked as hard as he could against the side.

“Aw, come on! You didn’t even tie the bugger up!?” snarled the Brit, and Donnie kicked it again, harder this time to keep their attention.

“Like I said.” Said the gruff man rather calmly, “Next time you can stand between the mutant and its buddy, I’d actually like to see you get your ass handed to you once in a while, stupid prick.”

“That’s it, you dodgy little shit, pull the car over!”

Donnie inwardly sighed in relief as he felt the car begin to slow, grateful that they were moving so quickly in the direction he needed them to. Now all they had to do was pop open the front, he’d outsmart the idiots, dart into the darkness and, voila, disappear into the night and find his way back to his brothers. Piece of cake.

The car stopped all together, the sound of doors opening and then closing reaching his ears. The men, Gruff and Brit were still yelling at each other, something opening and closing on either side of the vehicle.

He’d dealt with men like this his whole life, stupid thugs out to capture and control him and his brothers, all he had to do was pretend to be simple, act like they had the upper hand, and then overpower them when their guard was dropped.

He cracked his neck, giving his muscles one final stretch in preparation to run, and slammed his heel against the side of the cage once more.

The back doors opened, another light flooding his cage from what appeared to be a shoulder light or maybe a head lamp, no doubt meant to disorientate.

He squinted, but prepared himself none the less, ready for anything as Brit and Gruff continued to bicker.

“If you lose it…”

“I ain’t ‘gonna lose it! Now just stick it good and I’ll get the bugger tied up properly like you were supposed to do. Stupid fu…”

The second the hum of the electricity died, Donatello discreetly bunched his muscles, preparing to spring the moment they unlatched the door, when something long and thin appeared through the light and stabbed at him.

Eyes wide, he yelped, noticing it at the last second and was able to dodge, a loud crackle filling the cage as the stick whizzed past. He thought he had avoided it completely only to realize seconds later as the electrical stick stabbed into the metal floor that he was poorly mistaken.

His jaw slammed shut as every muscle stiffened, his limbs twitching seemingly on their own as pain rippled through his body and ripped at every inch, slamming him down into the floor as the electricity surged. He kicked and flailed, his mind working perfectly, begging him to escape the current, but at the same time, he realized the entire cage was metal, and that he would never get away until his tormentors decided to stop.

Finally, the pain shut of like a switch. He gasped in air, clawing against the ground to regain a stance, when something cold snapped around his neck and crushed him up against the cage wall.

“Well, get to it before it comes to.” Grunted Gruff, “Last thing we need is for you to lose it because you’re too stubborn to leave well enough alone.”

The thing around his throat tightened, painfully crushing his windpipe as it cut off his air and his ability to breathe. Desperately Donnie clawed at it, his mouth gaping as he struggled to suck in air, attempting to push back, dislodge it or throw his attacker off, but either he was far weaker than he had first assumed, or his attacker was far stronger than he thought.

Something grazed his foot and he kicked at it, tears forming as his lungs begged for air. Whatever it was it came again, snapping tight around his ankle and then the next, and before he knew it he couldn’t move his legs at all.

His eyes went wide, fear creeping in as he realized they weren’t going to stop. He choked in ragged gasps, silently begging for air as the world began to spin, when one arm was twisted painfully behind his back, and then the next.

Whoever had control of the thing around his neck shifted him, driving Donnie down and over onto his plastron, his arms bent even further, and then just like his legs, he could no longer move them.

Darkness danced at the corner of his eyes, threatening to drag him down into nothing. He was vaguely aware of the thing around his neck lifting him upright, before something thick was jammed into his mouth. It gave him one final shove, and finally, _finally_ , the wicked thing relinquished its hold.

He gasped for air, but still found he couldn’t breathe, panic overtaking him as his mouth barely sucked in anything. It took a second, far longer than it should’ve as he desperately flailed against his binds, but after a moment he was able to coordinate enough thought to flair his nostrils and finally get a good breath.

All he could do was lay there, wide eyed and unfocused as he heaved in air against the cold metal floor. The cage door clacked shut, the hum of electricity returning, right before the doors to the vehicle he was trapped in slammed closed and locked.

They weren’t stupid, not thugs like the Purple Dragons or bumbling fools like Shredder’s men. These people knew what they were doing, had tools to handle mutants like him, and had quite possibly done this before…

The car started up again, Gruff and Brit still bickering like children, and it was all he could do just to try and gather enough energy to focus.

It was a mistake to underestimate his foe, he realized that now, but he also realized that they had underestimated _him._

Now he knew how they fought; pain and disorientation, forceful holds and quick movements. There were ways to disrupt the electricity’s flow, ways that he now had to plan out.

Still breathing hard, he rotated on the metal, using his chin and what he could of his legs to force himself back up to his knees.

Everything hurt, but that didn’t stop him, it only steeled his resolve. He was far more intelligent than these idiots, and though he had underestimated them, there was still the fact that they had most certainly underestimated him.

Narrowing his eyes, he glared down at the ropes that bound his arms behind his back, and tested them. They were tied well, maybe a little too well, as were his feet, but...

He glanced down at the tight rope that they had left around his ankle. If they had been smart, they would’ve used chain, something for certain he couldn’t break free of, because this was just another training practice.

Donatello smirked despite his gag, and began to carefully scrape the rope around his wrists up and down against his carapace.

They were in for one shell of a surprise, especially when his brothers caught up and found them…


	4. Ch. 4

The laboratory had been well hidden in a forest deep in New Jersey almost two hours away, so close and yet so far. It was off a main road, unmarked, and unnamed without so much as a sign to tell them more or to hint at who may have done this, but at least they had Donnie.

They had fought hard; killed, smashed heads and spilled blood just to get their brother away, the men they were fighting having numbers and weapons they’d never faced before, with fighting tactics that were confusing to them. They were trying not only to recapture Donatello, but to take all of Leonardo’s team as well. By the time Leo was able to get all of his team to safety, each of their weapons were stained red, with blood smeared along the side of the Shellraiser and the Party Wagon, but they made it and just barely.

Leonardo had just called everyone to retreat, the Shellraiser’s engine roaring as it readied to smash through the barricade the humans had created, when the building blew up behind them, the fire ball bursting high into the night sky like a beacon to light their escape.

His father never spoke highly about those who sought revenge, but this…this didn’t feel like revenge, it almost felt like _justice_. Nothing in his life had ever felt so fulfilling as to watch the building his brother had been tortured in burn. With its destruction, and those monsters’ deaths, he knew that they would never be able to do this to Donatello, his brothers, his friends, family, or any other mutant ever again.

It was like a huge weight had been lifted from Leonardo’s shoulders as he drove, their year and a half long search bringing them to this final moment. It had been long and it had been agonizing, the search for their brother never seeming to bring them anywhere but circles, but now they finally had him. They had done what he and his brothers had sworn to do; made their little family whole again, and now they were home free…or so he thought.

Half an hour in, Donnie began to make noises, grunting and twitching in Raph’s arms as they drove. Forty-five minutes in and he was screaming, a scratching blood curtailing shriek that raked at their ears and clawed at their hearts, his body contorting as he writhed in agony along the Shellraiser floor.

Raph had a hold of his head and torso, Mikey and Casey doing their best to control his legs, while April hurriedly used her psychic abilities to see inside his mind to hopefully locate the source of his pain and try to numb it. No such luck;

Donatello was anything but weak. With his arms and legs so bruised, covered in scars and deep rutting tracks from long removed needles, Leo would’ve thought that strength would be the _last_ thing Donatello would have, but he _was_ strong, so much so that they could barely hold him down. Sometimes Raph was lifted of the ground and slammed into the wall with the force of Donatello’s flailing; while Mikey and Casey were both kicked off multiple times until April gave up her psychic probing and used her powers to focus on restraining his limbs instead.

From his peripheral vision, Leo could see tears in Michelangelo’s eyes, though he had to give his baby brother credit, he never hesitated or gave up, no matter how many times Donnie kicked him away, adding to the growing collection of bruises on his face and arms that he had amassed this night.

Leo wanted so badly to help them, to comfort and hush his genius brother and make the screaming stop; but he had to drive. The sound of Donatello’s unyielding cries making his skin crawl and had his teeth mashing together the whole way.  
Rockwell wasn’t much help either, flipping through Donatello’s files and mumbling names of chemicals that no one understood under his breath while his face went from creamy brown to white. He looked repulsed with every page flip, growing paler and paler until he had to put the files down altogether and turn away. 

Leo didn’t ask. None of them did. They were too focused on getting Donnie home, and in reality, none of them really _wanted_ to know. They just had to get him to the lair and bring him to Master Splinter; put him into their father’s safe and gentle hands to help him heal. That was all he needed, and that was all that mattered. Sensei would know what to do.

How they made it through the city without the Shredder’s men hearing Donatello, Leo would never know. It was a blessing they even made it down into the sewers without someone calling the police on their blood splattered vehicles, but they made it, Donnie’s screams still ringing so loud that as they pulled in, Master Splinter came running.

The moment Leo slipped the Shellraiser in park, the side door flung open, their father’s worried face appearing, his ears pricked as he searched for the source of the horrible sound. His eyes immediately pinpointed to where Raph, Mikey, Casey and April struggled to keep the flailing turtle still.

“What happened!?” he demanded. 

That was a fantastic question; one that Leo wasn’t sure how to begin answering. All he could do was stare at his father and then Donatello, his mouth opening and closing as images of his brother floating in green liquid, riddled with wires and tubes, came to mind. A surge of helplessness washed over him at the memory, gripping painfully at his throat and chest, stealing his voice, but thankfully, Dr. Rockwell had found his again, and began hurriedly explaining all that Leonardo suddenly found he couldn’t. 

Being beyond grateful for not having to be the one to go over the horrors they’d found, to explain that tube, that place, those people, he focused instead on moving his convulsing brother safely out of the Shellraiser, taking Casey’s place the second he could.

“Bring him to the dojo!” he heard his father call, and obediently, the four of them did just that.

Donnie kicked, flailed, and writhed the whole way, his screams echoing off the walls as he smacked his brothers into each other with every kick and spasm.

Leonardo’s ears were ringing, his back teeth grinding painfully at that awful sound. Mikey was still crying but never faltered in step or released his grip, Raph was wide eyed and clutching to Donatello so tight it was like his very life depended on it, April was doing the best she could to telekinetically keep Donatello still despite how strained she looked, her eyes red and puffy, with Casey whispering unusually gentle words of encouragement from her side. 

Karai appeared seemingly out of nowhere, still stained in her enemy’s blood, to ask how she could help. No doubt Leo had missed the sound of her and the others pulling in, in the party wagon, for Rockwell was now hovering within earshot with his team, watching just in case he’d be needed and serving as a mute button for a very curious and upset Mondo Gecko. Slash and Leatherhead had appeared as well, though didn’t say a word, but they didn’t need to, the twisted grimaces of horror mixed with concern were enough to speak volumes as Leo, Raph and Mikey, dragged their struggling brother up into the dojo.

Now, with Donatello placed in the center of the mats, Sensei somehow expected Leo and the others to do the impossible and hold their brother down and keep him still while he performed the same poison draining mantra that he had used when Karai had attacked and poisoned April so long ago.

Leo wasn’t sure if the _‘Healing Hands’_ would even work, it seemed futile to even try, but this was the only option they really had, they couldn’t just leave him to continue screaming like this. They had failed him already by taking so long, allowing those monsters to torture and experiment on him, and now they still _were_ , in a way... Leo couldn’t bear the thought of having made it this far only to fail his younger brother yet again by allowing those bastards to win.

Raphael remained at Donatello’s head, locking Donnie’s arms in an arm hold while he used his legs to anchor himself to the spot. Leo used his body weight in an attempt to keep Donnie still, hanging onto Donatello’s hips while Mikey grabbed their brother’s ankles and hung on for dear life.

_‘It’s almost over.’_ Leo told himself, his eyes clenching shut as Donnie’s screams clawed at his ears and heart. Donnie jerked and twisted, and he gripped onto Donatello tighter, his brother’s plastron scraping against his cheek as he silently begged the screaming to stop, if only to give his brother a few moments peace. _‘It’s almost over!’_

It was an exhausting ordeal to say the least, the three of them barely keeping him still despite their best efforts, as Master Splinter hummed the mantra above them.

“Rin-Pyo-Tō-SHA!” 

The final words rang through the air, a soft glow lighting up behind Leo’s closed lids as warmth spread beneath his cheek; his father’s energy surging through his brother’s battered form. 

Finally, he felt Donnie’s plastron begin to settle, the awful screaming dying down to choking gasps as he twitched instead of writhed.

Relief washed over Leo as that terrible sound finally stopped. He loosened his grip, but didn’t move, too exhausted to do more than lay across Donnie’s heaving plastron and pant. 

“It stopped.” Leo gasped, “Oh thank shell it stopped.”

“Father, is he going to be alright?” he heard Karai ask, just as a heavy weight thunked weakly against the back of his carapace, Mikey’s scent drifting past his nose.

“I do not know what was done to him.” Murmured Splinter, his voice, which was always strong, suddenly hesitant, “But if Dr. Rockwell is correct, then the only thing that will help him now is time and rest.”

Leo closed his eyes and took a deep breath, shifting his aching arms out one by one from under his brother’s carapace. Mikey didn’t even budge as Leo dragged himself into a sitting position, a single grunt his only complaint as Leo shifted them both upright.

“But he’s going to be ok, right?” came April’s shaking voice. “Donnie is; he was in so much pain.”

Leonardo couldn’t bring himself to look at his father or April. He didn’t want to see their concern, their fear, so instead he found Donatello, still gasping and shuddering along the dojo floor, his eyes cracking open to…to…

Leo froze, his heart seizing at the sight of his brother opening his eyes for the first time in hours. “Donnie?” he breathed, and he felt everyone around him tense. 

Raph let go of Donnie’s arms and leaned over him, quickly checking his pulse and then forehead. “Hey bro.” he called softly to him, his voice shaking slightly, “You with us?”

Donatello didn’t make a sound, didn’t move, his chocolate eyes barely flickering. 

Maybe he wasn’t actually awake, just drifting in and out of consciousness. Leo sighed, about to give up and suggest that they make him comfortable, when Donatello twisted beneath him so quickly, he was sure someone had to be moving him.

A flash of green, and suddenly Raph was down, his hand clutching his throat as he gagged and struggled to breathe. Leo had just begun to move, barely able to process how Raph could be down, when something hard slammed into the side of his head, driving him into the mat with a hard crack.

“Donnie!” someone yelled. Stars popped before his eyes as he struggled to understand what had just happened. He groaned as he pulled himself back up, finding Raph still fighting to breathe as Karai darted after… _Donnie_?!

Donatello was upright, wobbling slightly but on the move, determinedly racing towards Master Splinter’s room like someone had lit a fire under him. 

Despite the stars, Leo shot to his feet, darting after his brother’s shell.

“No, wait! You’re scaring him!” April yelled. Karai hesitated, but Leo did not. He didn’t even know why he kept going, a slight sense of urgency that tugged at him and drove him to keep his tortured brother within sight.

He watched as Donnie stumbled through the gap in Sensei’s screen, disappearing only for a moment before Leo darted in behind him.

“Leonardo!” he heard Master Splinter hiss, but he had already slipped inside, his heart pounding so hard he was sure it would break through his plastron. 

He scanned the room, finding Donnie fairly quickly, but what he saw made his heart break;

Donatello was against the far wall scratching at the concrete as though searching for something, his movements frantic and disorientated like he was expecting something to appear out of thin air.

“Where’s the door.” He heard Donnie whisper, “There’s always a door, where’s the door?!”

“Donnie?”

The taller turtle froze at the call of his name; his head whipping around so fast Leo swore he heard his neck crick. The eyes that found him weren’t his brother’s, not the kind intelligent orbs that perked with interest at every question, no, they were wild, angry, daring him to take another step with an unspoken promise dancing in their depths, a promise that Leo had seen many times in the eyes of their foes. 

His throat tightened, his tongue suddenly too thick to form words. “D-Donnie, I…” he tried to say, moving to go to him, to hold him, to comfort, when a sound like no other came from Donatello, and froze Leonardo mid step.

Leatherhead had made a sound similar once, as had Ice Cream Kitty when Raph accidentally dropped the remote on her tail. It was a hiss, a loud, violent, _‘stay away from me’_ sound that he had never heard come from him or one of his brothers before. It had no words, only a noise, and in that single expulsion of air it carried a promise; come near me, and I _will_ hurt you.

Leo swallowed, a flicker of unease fluttering through him, but he refused to back away. “Donnie.” He tried again, smiling weakly, “It’s ok, i-it’s me, Leo... I’m not going to hurt you, I…”

“Liar!” His brother spat, turning to face him, one hand still searching the wall while the other came up, ready to claw and strike, “You’re not real, you’re _never_ real. I know who you are- Come any closer and I’ll rip your throat out!” 

As Donnie snarled the last words, Leo’s chest tightened. _‘Ok, calm down.’_ he told himself, taking a deep breath. Donnie had been through a lot, more than he knew no doubt, he just needed to be calm, show his brother he wasn’t there to harm him.

“No, really, it’s ok Donnie.” He offered another weak smile, raising his hands out and away from his body to show he wasn’t a threat. “You…You’re free. We got you out of there, you’re home. Just take it easy for a moment. You’re not in your right mind, you…”

“I’m not stupid!” roared Donatello, so loud that it made Leo flinch. He bared his teeth and snarled, “You won’t fool me, not again, never again. You’re not real, you never are! You’re just one of them, one of them here to put me back in that cage!”

Donatello hissed again, shifting his feet as though he were about to spring. Leo stiffened and readied for the attack, but refused to move, his gaze remaining fixed on his brother before him.

“I…” Leo began, but his voice died in his throat, the words, _‘you’re not real, you never are,’_ stabbing at him worse than any knife wound. How many times had Donatello thought he or his brothers were there, only to realize at the last moment that he was back in the hands of those people? How many times had his brother wishfully hoped he was seeing things right? And how many times had he woken up, only to realize he was wrong, that they weren’t there, that he, Mikey and Raph were not coming for him…

“Y-you’re,” Leo managed to choke out, “never going into a cage again, Donnie.” He swallowed, fighting to push through the pain and simply make his mouth work, “You’re, you’re in Master Splinter’s room. You can stay right here if you want, no one’s going to make you do anything or go anywhere against your will ever…”

“SHUT UP!” Donnie screeched, wild eyed and vicious, “Shut up, _shut up!_ I know what you really are, I won’t be fooled. I won’t go back; I’ll never go back! If you’re smart, you’ll stay away, all of you!!”

“Leonardo…” came a soft warning from behind him, his Sensei’s worry leaking through despite his tone.

Leo continued to force his smile, remaining rooted to the spot. “You don’t have to go anywhere.” He promised. “You’re ok Donnie, really. You’re…you’re free. We finally found you, we got you out of that awful tube thing, we killed the people who put you in it, blew up the building. Master Splinter used the Healing Hands to get whatever they put in you, out; to make the pain stop.” He gestured slowly to around him, careful not to move too fast and possibly trigger his poor brother into attacking. “You’re in Sensei’s room.” He repeated, desperate for Donnie to just understand that he was free. “And you never have to leave it if you don’t want to. Ok?”

For the first time, Donnie hesitated. He looked confused despite his gaze that darted around the room and back to Leo as though expecting him to lunge. “You’re not real.” He growled through clenched teeth, though this time his words carried a tone of unease. “I’m, I’m in a cage already, aren’t I? Went through the wrong door...” He backed up, his carapace clicking as it hit the wall. 

The expression on Donatello’s face shifted, his gaze drifting off as if he’d lost sight of who was in front of him; it was a look that Leo recognized as his genius brother going over countless lists of facts in his head before coming to a conclusion. It was something familiar and it would’ve been reassuring, if Donnie hadn’t started murmuring his thoughts out loud, as if he had forgotten he had an audience.

“…Doors lead to cages that close, halls lead to gas that disorientates, you think you’re free and you’re not. Vents lead to stunners that stop your heart, and sewers, there are no sewers, just fake lids that bring you down to underwater cages where they drown you then bring you back…”

“Drown? Bring back?” whispered Leo, feeling the color drain from his face. “N-no. I promise you’re free. You’re not in a cage, you’re free, you’re…”

Donnie shook his head, Leo’s voice reminding him that he wasn’t alone and snapping him out of his reverie. His eyes widened back into that wild look, only this time, they were filled with fear. “No, no. You’re a hallucination. You’re not real, _you’re not real!_ ” 

Spinning around, Donnie clawed for the wall again, his arms visibly shaking as he scratched at them, searching for something that Leo didn’t understand. 

“Just a hallucination.” He heard Donnie whisper, “It’s not real, just ignore it, it’s not real, just ignore it.”

Leo’s heart clenched, a sharp stab slicing through him as he watched what had once been a strong, intelligent ninja, his brother who he had been raised with, trained with, loved…reduced to a quivering mess huddled up against a wall. 

He just wanted him to be ok, to realize he was free and to understand that those people would never touch him again. “Donnie.” He whispered, taking a hesitant step closer. “It’s ok, I promise it’s all ok.” 

Leo knew Donnie couldn’t see him, but he smiled anyway. “I know you’re smart, a genius. You can tell this isn’t like those other times. It’s different, it’s unique, because it’s _real_. This room, us…” He reached out to Donatello, hoping beyond hope to reach his younger brother, “…Raph, Mikey, me. We saved you, you’re free from them.” 

His fingertips reached out, just close enough to graze Donatello’s skin, let him feel his touch, know he was real, when Donnie whipped around. His hand snapped around Leo’s wrist, jerking him forward, the other coming up to close around Leo’s throat before he had the chance to even react. Donnie had gotten fast, and by the feel of his grip and the lack of hesitation behind it, he’d done this before.

“D-Donnie.” Leo choked as the pressure built around his windpipe, enough to warn but not to kill, “I-it’s ok, it’s really o-ok.”

He stood in Donnie’s grip, his heart pounding in his ears as he watched Donatello. He could’ve deflected, ripped off the grip and subdued his brother, but…That’s not what Donnie needed.

Slowly Donatello’s eyes widened, his head turning ever so slightly to glance at the wrist in his hand as though he hadn’t expected it to actually be flesh. He gently turned it, moving it this way and that, examining Leo’s arm, wrist and then hand.

“It’s ok…” whispered Leo again, and Donnie froze, terrified eyes turning up to face him.

Donnie studied him again, but this time, Leo felt the hands that had been so strong around his neck and wrist began to tremble. The taller turtle found Leo’s gaze, frightened and searching. “Le…Leo?” he squeaked, his voice failing him.

All Leo could do was smile, the grip around his neck loosening some to allow him to speak. “Yeah.” He whispered, “It’s me Donnie.”

Donnie’s gaze swept over his face, his plastron, his legs and then back. “You’re real.” Donnie whispered, almost in disbelief. He relinquished Leo’s wrist to touch his cheek, the other hand finally releasing his throat to tentatively brush against his plastron, his eyes never leaving Leo’s. “You’re really real?” 

Leonardo nodded, his throat so tight he couldn’t form words. 

At his nod, Donatello broke. Tears formed at the edges of his eyes, his face contorting into a sob as his whole body went limp.

Leo had to lunge to catch him, gently easing him down to the ground before he pulled the crying turtle in to his plastron.

“You’re real.” Donnie sobbed as he clutched to him, “You’re really real this time.”

“Shh…” Whispered Leo, holding him as tight as he could as his eyes began to burn, an overwhelming surge of emotion rising up and threatening to spill. “I’ve got you, Donnie. We all do, it’s ok.”

All Donatello could do was cry, blubbering the words _‘you’re real,’_ over and over even after Mikey and Raph came up to hold and hug him. He was so weak he could barely move to lift his arms, so when Master Splinter came, his gentle hands finding Donatello, he couldn’t even drag himself from Leo’s lap to go to him. Instead, their father pulled him in up onto his lap, allowed Donnie to bury his sobs into his fur, and simply held him there for the rest of the night, Raph, Leo and Mikey curled around him, just to remind their poor abused brother that they were there.

Shell only knew what they’d done to him down in that horrible building, and shell only knew how long it would take for him to recover, but at least now he was free, home where he belonged, and they were going to do everything they could to make it better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Everyone thank Ikara. Without her this chapter would be a sad scary little writing fail X_X


	5. Ch. 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Language warning.

His wrists were raw and oozing red by the time he broke free of his binds, his attention turning to the rope around his feet almost immediately. They weren’t bleeding badly, and the pain was just a minor discomfort with how much adrenaline was surging through him. Getting free was his only priority, it had to be; these people were nuts.

“So I bagged this one fucker,” Grunted Gruff, “Big, ugly, zombie looking freak, kept promising me and Karson money…”

“Ha! Like I haven’t heard _that_ one before.” Snickered Brit.

“Yeah well, Karson punches it right in its ‘freakin face while I turn on the zapper, and dammed if it doesn’t shit itself all over him!”

The both of them burst into laughter, their voices scratching at Donnie’s ears as he discreetly used the rope he’d broken free of to cut away at the bindings around his ankles. It was a simple trick really, something their father had taught them ages ago when they had to escape their restraints without a knife.

He simply needed to keep his knees bent to continue fooling the idiots while he used the longest bit of rope he had as a wire saw. That meant spit to keep the fabric from causing too much friction, keep it tight at a ninety-degree angle, and saw vigorously against the grain.

“And, and, he’s covered in this thing’s crap!” Laughed Gruff, “He’s cursing and yelling at me to stop zapping it, but I was laughing so damn hard that I _couldn’t_ , and it just kept coming! Like some endless supply of shit was stored up there! Ah-haha!”

All he needed was just a few more… _snap_!

Donnie’s heart soared as the rope finally broke, his brain running a mile a minute to formulate the next step of his plan.

“Ah-h, the fucks.” Snapped Brit, his laughter tapering off as the truck suddenly slowed. “Look at this shit. You’d think they were expecting us to open the back and loose the damn bugger or ‘somthin.”

Quickly, Donnie darted his hands behind his back and snapped his legs together, keeping the ropes exactly how they had fallen to give the appearance of remaining tied.

“That’s because Mort’s team lost the last one.” Grunted Gruff, and Donnie felt the car stop all together. “It was a big one, barely fit in the cage. The moment they opened it, _bam_ , it slammed into them, took the shock and kept going. They don’t take chances anymore.”

Donnie’s eyes narrowed, taking in the information carefully. The people outside were no doubt well-armed, armored maybe, with those blasted zappers and neck holders. They’d be expecting aggression, an attack most likely, with the best case scenario being fear or unconsciousness.

_‘Hmm…’_ He thought, _‘How about something unexpected instead?’_

Forgetting his previous plan, he sucked his head and limbs into his shell, tucked his tail in tight, and kept his gaze fixed on the main door. If he could avoid aggression, lull them into a false sense of security, then he could surprise them and escape.

“’Aye, we got one.” He heard Brit say, “It’s easy to move, smart, but we were able to trap it pretty quick. Just don’t go letting it wander about or else the bugger’ll be bounding up and over the walls.”

“Agile?” He heard a new voice ask.

“Aye.” Said Brit, “You got this one, or would you rather we handle it? It’s tied up, shouldn’t be a problem.”

_‘Walls?’_ Thought Donatello quickly, _‘Ok, so the question is, inside or outside?’_

“Nah, we got this one.” Came the new voice, and the back door to the van clicked open.

Just like before, a bright light flooded the cage, only this time Donnie was patient, holding his breath as he waited for them to make the next move.

“Uh…you caught a shell?”

“Oi, would you look at that!” Laughed Brit, “It broke out just to suck into its little shell there. Must’ve scared the shit outta it.”

The cage clicked open, a long poll extending in, though unlike the others, it didn’t buzz. It poked him a few times, pushed at him a little, and even scooted him around the cage as though checking to see if he’d react.

“Looks pretty out!” Someone shouted, “Get the stretcher, this one will be easy!”

“Wait, _out?_ ” Repeated Gruff, right as a pair of hands grabbed hold of Donnie’s carapace and began dragging him out of the cage. “No, _no_! Hold up, it’s not sedated! It’s playing possum!!”

But it was already too late.

The second Donatello felt the solid ground beneath him begin to disappear, he balled his hands into fists and shot out of his shell, slamming them straight into the man who held him.

A cry rang out as bone crunched beneath his fist, the lights around him shuddering as he twisted mid hit to find the car’s rooftop. He heard the crackle of electricity start up as he searched, felt someone come in close right as his sore hands finally closed around the hood of the vehicle he’d been thrown into, and with a quick kick, he twisted up and out of reach, to land square in the center of a great, big, truck.

People were yelling all around, lights were blaring and still on him, and he could hear as well as feel the sizzling crack of electricity as what sounded like a dozen taser sticks lit up.

The lights seemed to be shining from everywhere, even above, with shadowed figures dancing in and out of focus just behind them.

He scanned the area for any sign of an exit, but what he found instead made his heart nearly stop.

There was a wall just as they had mentioned, outside which was a plus, but it was sitting thirty yards away between him, and what looked like at least twenty people armed to the teeth. They had tasers, what appeared to be guns, possibly Kevlar, long metal poles with clamps on the end, and what appeared to be rope bunched and ready in their grip, all of them facing him, waiting for his next move.

“Aw, sewer apples.”

Movement flickered out of the corner of his eye and he shifted out of reflex, shooting out of the way just in time to avoid two darts that had been aimed for his shoulder. Another flicker of movement, and he knew his time was limited.

Gritting his teeth, he feinted to the left, but launched off the truck to the right, aiming for a shadow, and felt his knee connect with someone’s face. A sharp light stabbed towards him as the man he crashed into cried out, the crackling in the air enough to warn him what it was.

Fully prepared this time, he twisted to avoid the hit, one hand grabbing onto the weapon, his other flying back to crack into whoever had dared attack him.

His elbow smashed into their face, the shock stick slipping free straight into Donatello’s waiting grasp. Another shadow loomed over him, about to pounce, and he smirked, clicked the switch mid spin, and stabbed it straight into their gut.

The scream that followed was muted by the involuntary contraction of muscles that snapped their jaw closed, but it was satisfying to hear none the less.

Donnie kicked off the ground again, leaping over the fallen men towards the wall he had spotted with his mind whirling.

He calculated quickly, dodging diving men with spins and well-aimed stabs of the taser rod, his mind formulating a proper trajectory to propel him from corner to corner to the top; he had to be quick, had to make every step count…

Bunching his muscles, Donnie sprang, hearing the shouts and thunder of footfalls just behind him. He was about to hit the wall, ready to launch his way up it and escape, when something cold snapped around his ankle and ripped him back.

“No!” He yelped as the world was swept out from beneath him, his hands clawing for the wall just out of reach, before his face was slammed forcefully into the grass.

“Hold it down!” Someone yelled, and despite the stars that popped before him and the heavy weight that crushed down on him, he twisted and jabbed the zapper back, aiming for whoever held him, when someone else latched hold of his wrist and twisted it.

“It’s smart!” They yelled as they struggled with him to wrench his arm back. “Must’ve been human once.”

“And yet you’re still attacking me!?” Snarled Donnie incredulously, when a knee jammed into his neck to help hold him still.

He kicked and flailed against them, but more hands appeared, forcing him still against the ground as his attackers ripped back his arms.

“Will someone get the damn restraints?!”

There had to be at least sixteen hands on him, and two knees, all of them grunting with the effort to keep him still. Something cold snapped his ankles together, yet still he struggled. Giving up would mean giving in, and he needed to buy his brothers as much time as possible to get to him.

The knee against his throat shifted, cutting his air off just a little bit more. He choked and struggled against it, their grip tightening as something soft yet strong slipped around his wrists and bound them tight.

All of a sudden the knee against him lifted, allowing precious air back into his lungs, but in that split second where he gasped, a hand forced his head back against the grass, and something sharp stung into his neck.

“Damnit!” He grunted, knowing full well what it had to be; a sedative or paralysis drug of some kind, no doubt to make moving him less of a struggle.

Sure enough, his vision began to blur, the whole world fuzzing in and out as he struggled just to stay conscious.

_‘Aw, shell…’_ He thought, giving himself a good shake. _‘Come on, just stay conscious, just fight it. You have to memorize where they’re taking you.’_

His eyes closed for only a moment as hands lifted him from the ground, his head flopping as whoever it was hoisted him up. “Easy, we got you.” He heard them say, soft and gentle almost.

Curiously his eyelids cracked, searching for the owner of the voice, only to find a blur of green and red.

“Raph?” He forced out, his words slurring some as he struggled to focus.

Emerald eyes glinted back at him, a smirk wide across his older brother’s face. “I told you.” Said Raph, “We got you. Now stay still, it’s hard to carry you with you wiggling so much.”

“S-sorry.” Murmured Donnie, his head lolling to the other side where yet another pair of hands had a hold of him. Green and blue greeted him, a determined set of eyes locked ahead as Leonardo tugged him forward. “Leo.” He whispered, “I knew you guys would find me.”

“Shh.” Leo hushed, “Almost there, right Raph?”

For some reason Raph snickered at the comment, but nodded all the same. “Sure thing, _Leo_.”

Donnie’s head lolled again, stars blotting his vision. “They,” He swallowed, his tongue thick and scratchy against the roof of his mouth, “They dru-drugged me…”

“It’s alright.” Murmured Raph, he and Leo both finally coming to a halt, “Just close your eyes, ok? Take a nap, sleep it all off. We’re ‘gonna take good care of you.”

Still in a daze, he simply nodded, allowing his brothers to ease him down. It felt scratchy whatever it was, probably the couch where Mikey had shredded a pizza box or something, and was more than grateful when his brothers finally freed his arms and legs from his binds.

“We…we ‘gotta warn the, the others.” He managed to say as he felt Raph rustle the pillows beneath him. “Those people, they…”

Leo appeared, checking his forehead and then pulse, a smile on his face as he nodded.

“Already taken care of.” He murmured, “Just get some sleep.”

“Sleep.” Repeated Donnie, his eyelids already beginning to droop, “Ok…”

Nestling down into the comfort of the couch, he allowed his eyes to finally close.

He _knew_ they would find him, he just knew it; they had never failed him or any of the family before. All he regretted now was missing the looks on those people’s faces as they were outwitted and out muscled by three eighteen-year-old turtles. It must’ve been fantastic, a bit like when they snapped Raph and their friends out of the brain worms’ control and left Shredder looking like an idiot; it had been wonderful.

After a while, noises began to pull him from sleep, a strange clanking sound, most likely Mikey up to something.

His head gave a painful throb, pulling him further into the waking world. His eyes parted, a groan the closest thing to words he could produce as he shifted on the…on the…straw?

Donnie blinked, a glint of gold shining bright beneath him, and swiped his tongue around an impossibly dry mouth, and propped his head up just enough to reaffirm that he was in fact laying on straw.

“Wha…?” He murmured, completely confused, as he distinctly remembered his brothers laying him down on the couch in the lair. He shifted an arm to prop himself up, noting that beneath the thick pile of straw was a hard surface, not the soft couch he was remembering. Was this some kind of joke?

Blinking to clear his vision, he looked up, searching for one of his brothers, only to find a wall of pure white.

_‘It’s a hallucination.’_ He thought, closing his eyes to give himself a good shake. _‘It’s just a hallucination.’_ But when he opened them again, it was all the same.

White ceilings with bright lights that stung hung high above him, tall glass walls were to his right, left and front, lined up to the ceiling with quarter-sized holes. Behind him stood another wall, pure white with two small indents; one, which resembled some kind of child’s training toilet, and the other with food dishes, one with water and the other with some strange kind of kibble, like the kind humans fed their dogs, while he was in the corner of this… big cage, laying in a thick pile of straw like some kind of _animal._

“No.” He murmured desperately, refusing to accept any of it. He shook himself and snapped defiantly, “No, no…Leo and Raph, they had me, I’m hallucinating, I’m actually in the lair and I’m hallucinating.”

“Eazzzy now,” Hushed a voice, a deep one, yet soft and gentle, almost pitying, “It’ss a hell of a drug, ain’t it?”

Donnie flinched, but followed the sound of the voice, up and to his right, and immediately found its owner.

It was a snake, a mutant, coiled up right beside him on the other side of the glass, its thick head and four burning red eyes fixed intently on him. It was massive, its head the size of a dinner plate with jet black coils so thick they put Karai’s mutation to shame.

His eyes widened. “Pleeease be a hallucination.” He begged under his breath, his voice coming out more like a humiliating squeak.

The snake tilted its head, its tongue flicking out to scent the air, and shifted, pulling free four human-like arms that draped down over its scales.

“They usually don’t uzze it on new comerss.” It hissed, the deep yet gentle voice sure enough coming from it, “They sssave it for essscape attemptss, makess it eazzzier to trick you back into your cage when you think you’re free and sssurrounded by the oness you love. You musst’ve given them one hell of a hard time out there, huh?”

Donnie’s heart sank, his chest tightening. “No.” He whispered, clutching at the glass in an attempt to force himself upright, “No-no. My brothers, they freed me, I’m dreaming…”

His legs wobbled as he clawed at the glass, struggling to stand, only to buckle out from under him and send him crashing back down atop the hay.

“Woah, turtle-boy,” Came a new voice, higher pitched but still male, “You keep that up and they’ll put you out again, though not with the same juice as before. What they used was a sweet drug that hits the pleasure part of our brains, makes us see people we wish were there. For me, it’s my girl Tanisha and my little man Jerome. Leaves you reeeal fricking out of it after, though…”

Every inch of Donatello felt heavy, his mouth dry and limbs tingling as he fought to make them cooperate. He knew it was from the injection, knew that right now things were clearer than they had been when he thought he’d seen his brothers, but _shell_ he didn’t want to accept it.

“Damnit.” He cursed, thudding his fist into the hay, “They were _there_ , I thought…”

“You’re not the firssst, nor the lassst to be fooled by it, boy.” Rumbled the snake, “Just alwayzzz remember, if you see your family, itss mossst likely jusst the drug. Don’t talk much, and if you need to be ssure, asssk them quesstionsss that only your loved onesss would know.”

Donnie shook his head, gritting his teeth in frustration. “I can’t believe I let them trick me.” He groaned, “When my brothers find me, I’ll…”

“You best hope they never do.” Grunted the other voice, “Those who come in, never come out, not even in a body bag. They’ll just experiment on it until there’s nothing left but tissue to incinerate.”

“Hey.” Snapped the snake, “Watch it Ssskittless, the poor kid’ss been through enough, don’t ssscare him.”

“Oh, _no_ you didn’t!”

A fevered rustling sounded to Donatello’s left, and when he forced his head to turn, he found what looked like a four-foot-tall, pure white, fluffy ball of curly haired fuzz, struggling to sit upright in its straw.

Sure enough, a mutant sprang from its nest, covered in bits of straw with a snarl on its muzzle. It was a poodle; fully mutated with poofs and paws, long floppy ears and big brown eyes.

“My name is _Jamal_ , damnit!” Snarled the dog, its teeth bared and poofy tail wagging furiously, “I’m a proud black man! Not some dog meant to sit in a fricking white lady’s damn purse! You call me Skittles one more time and I’ll bite your black scaled face off!”

The snake beside him snickered. “Ignore him.” It hissed gently, “What’ss your name, boy?”

Donnie watched the poofy poodle pace and growl behind the glass for a moment, his fists clenching and unclenching with his gaze fixed on the snake, before he dared try and prop himself up again.

“Donatello.” He grunted, successfully managing to get up onto an elbow. “Where are we?”

“No clue.” Said the snake, its four shoulders shrugging, “Been here for four and a half yearss, never ssseen anything other than thiss cage, and…” It hesitated, its red eyes lowering to look anywhere but at him, “Well, thingss that we’ll talk about later. For now, my name izzz David, but you can call me Viper, it’ss what the ssstreet kidss sstarted calling me when I wazzz hit by the goo.”

Forcing his other arm to shift, Donnie managed to prop himself completely up onto his elbows. “Four years?” He murmured, focusing primarily on his shaking arms that seemed determined to give out, “Yeah, that’ll change, don’t worry, my brothers will fix that. They’ll be here soon, I’ll get us out, they’ll…”

His arms gave a final shudder before slipping out from under him, sending him crashing back atop the straw with a grunt.

“Eazzzy.” Said Viper again, “They’ll give you a few dayzz to sssettle in before they sstart anything. Jusst ressst, take it eazzzy and let the drug work itss way out of your sssysstem. If you ssstruggle, they’ll jusst sssedate you again, and trussst me, it’ss not a nice kind of sssedation.”

“The shit stings!” He heard Jamal snap, “Only hit acid once on a dare back in college, and that shit’s got nothing compared to the nasty trip the stuff they give you sends you on. Trust me kid, you don’t want it!”

“My brothers…” Murmured Donnie, shifting over onto his carapace to flex his arms and legs one by one, “They’ll find me, they’ll get us out of here in no time, you’ll see.”

The snake man shifted beside him, coiling up against the glass in a tight uneasy ball. “No,” He said sadly, tucking his arms and then head down within his coils, “They won’t, and you besst hope they never do, for Jamal izzz right. Freakss like usss come in, but freakss like usss never come _out_.”


	6. Ch. 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings:  
> Self-harm  
> Dubious Consent.

It had been a week since they brought Donatello home, a long, painful week that they had all expected to go much, much smoother.

After the night where Donnie slept in Master Splinter’s arms with them all huddled and curled up around him, Donnie began to act strange.

When he first woke up, he had an episode; a sadly expected one, but similar enough to the first that Leo was able to safely talk the poor turtle down and prove they were real all over again. After that, Donnie spent the day huddled in the corner of Sensei’s room with Leo and sometimes Raph, refusing to eat, refusing to move, and how he managed to hold it and not use the bathroom for all that time, none of them knew.

It was awful to see him this way, so untrusting, scared, flinching from their touches as though he expected them to grab at him, and the violent way he snarled and growled when April and Casey made the mistake of trying to see him, was enough to frighten and break their hearts.

April had so looked forward to being reunited with the turtle she saw as her closest brother, and even though she kept a strong face and smiled as she and Casey backed out of the room, they knew that Donnie’s rejection, and no doubt hatred that she felt pouring off of him in that moment, must’ve killed her. While Casey, well, he was more focused on her than anything else, though for once it wasn’t because he was fighting to earn her affections; he was worried and upset, that she, and all of his friends, were hurting.

Once they were gone, Raphael came and went, drifting between checking on Mikey, Donnie, and though Leo didn’t want to admit it, he knew his hot headed brother was also checking in on _him_ , staying close, and waiting to defend them all from their own brother at any given moment.

It was hard for Leo to watch, but even harder to know what Donnie’s pain was doing to a certain someone in their family…

Michelangelo, he hadn’t been the same since the day they lost Donatello. At first he’d held out hope that they’d find him, remaining positive for all of them, but as the days turned to weeks and the weeks turned to months, Mikey’s hope turned into determination, which then quickly became desperation. Seeing Donnie in that tank had been one of the worst things they could’ve ever let him see. They all knew he blamed himself for Donnie’s capture, and no matter how many times Leo or Raph, April, Casey, Master Splinter, Dr. Rockwell, Slash, Leatherhead…everyone, told him it _wasn’t_ , that Donatello knew what he was doing when he threw Mikey out of the net’s way, they knew he didn’t believe them, and that every smile was just a cover to hide his pain.

Thankfully Master Splinter could see it too, and every day he made sure to spend time with their youngest brother, teaching him meditations, having long talks, and even attempted a few times to play ‘Mazes and Mutants’ with them. It was sad and a little disturbing the first time Master Splinter played a wizard, but Mikey had loved it, and more importantly, he had needed it, then and now.

All day Master Splinter stayed with Michelangelo, setting him with the task of guarding the dojo entrance while he went about putting away the weapons with Karai. According to Raph, Mikey took the task to heart, and was determinedly protecting Donnie from anyone who might bother him, including having gone as far as evicting a fruit fly and two spiders from the dojo.

For twelve hours Leo, Donnie, and sometimes Raph sat in silence, neither touching, talking, or making eye contact with Donatello, for it seemed to only upset their brother further.

Raph had just gone out to get some food, and Leo had started to drift off to sleep, when he felt Donnie begin to stir. When he cracked an eye, he found that Donnie had actually gotten up, cautiously glancing back at Leo as though expecting him to stop him at any moment, and was slowly creeping towards the door.

Leo had let him, pretending to sleep, until he heard the sliding door to their father’s room open. They didn’t pressure him to leave, didn’t even try to approach him to offer comfort, they just let him stand there, peering around the corner, observing, until he slipped out and found a corner in the dojo to watch them from.

After a while, Mikey had taken it upon himself to try and coax Donnie to eat. He never got too close, but he did manage to get within arm’s length as he handed Donatello a plate of ‘everything-pizza’.

Leo was thrilled when he saw Donnie nibble at it, but that was all, his taller brother still sticking to the corner with wide eyes as though expecting them to attack him. After that, Mikey continued to work his magic by promising Donnie something better than food; a shower, with the bathroom all to himself.

Their brother still didn’t want any of them to touch him, but, at least he accepted the offer and was moving.

He spent two hours in the bathroom, huddled in the corner of the shower with the water hitting him full blast. They took turns checking in on him, making sure he wasn’t going to do something stupid, when finally, he came out, pulled a blanket from the closet, and then settled in the far corner of the couch.

Donatello had stayed there ever since, huddled into the cushions, eating only little bits of food when he thought no one was looking. He didn’t sleep, didn’t talk to anyone, and once more magically held it for hours, though Karai, the unofficial night watch, did say she spotted him coming out of the bathroom only when he thought they were all asleep. Other than that, Donnie didn’t move from the spot, wouldn’t let anyone touch him, and continued to growl just under his breath whenever he spotted or even smelled April and Casey.

Leo sighed from his usual place along the wall as he watched his brother, still huddled under the same blanket in the same place in the corner of the couch where he’d been for days. He looked so thin now, his neck and what Leo could see of his arms still bruised, with old scars and old track lines still visible along his pale skin.

He felt helpless, like he was still somehow failing Donatello and all of his family by allowing Donnie to continue to suffer, and Leo hated every heart-clawing moment of it.

Letting out another sigh, he pushed off the wall and turned for his room. Perhaps some meditation would help ease his mind, give him a fresh look at things, and maybe even provide him with new ideas on how to help Donatello. He had to do something, and just sitting back and watching Donnie and the rest of his family drown in misery was most definitely not the answer.

He reached his door and pulled it open, stepping in like always, his arm drifting up automatically to flick on the light, when a three fingered hand snapped around his wrist. His heart leapt in his throat, but before he could even yelp, he was yanked through the door, the world spinning as whoever had him simultaneously tripped his feet and twisted him to the floor.

Leo hit what felt like pillows with a grunt, a heavy weight appearing across his thighs as someone straddled him the moment he was down.

Now Leo understood, and as hands wrapped tight around his wrists and pinned them to the floor, his patience began to wear thin.

“Raph, get off of…” He began to snap, when a pair of lips descended upon his. It was Raphael alright, the scent of leather and sweat from his morning workout filling his nose, along with a subtle smell of Michelangelo and arousal, just as a tongue slipped past his slacked lips to claim every inch of his mouth.

Leo had half a mind to bite it, when Raph’s hips began to move, grinding down against his slit exactly how he liked it.

He struggled to pull his mouth away, but Raph just pressed down harder, that tongue of his wrapped around Leo’s like an anchor that helped keep him in place.

Raphael’s thrusts quickened, sparking fire in Leo’s gut with every desperate grind of their hips, and finally Raph pulled his mouth away. Leo gasped, Raph riding his hips faster and harder, panting out grunts and soft churrs as he struggled to keep his voice down. It was great, amazing, and perfect and felt so good, but shell, this was _not_ the moment for this!

“R-Raph.” Leo gasped, his back arching as much as Raph’s weight would allow. “This is, th-this is not, _ah~h_ , appropriate right now!”

The bigger turtle answered with a muffled churr, a sound that drove butterflies down into Leo’s stomach and summoned a churr of his own.

He couldn’t help it, the sounds, the smells of arousal, and hard thrusts against his groin; it was building him up, taking away his will to resist and making him harder and harder until he couldn’t hold it in anymore.

With a gasp, Leo dropped down, doing his best to ignore Raph’s snicker, when he felt teeth nip at his collarbone. He gasped again and moaned, his hips thrusting up to meet each of Raphael’s. Something hot and thick gliding out just then along his cock, grinding against him with long twists that pushed him faster towards the edge.

“Raph!” He groaned, a lot louder than he should’ve, his hands balling into fists as his stomach suddenly tightened, his hips bucked, and his whole body tensed. He shivered and twitched as his cock twisted, spurting out thick loads of pleasure all across his and Raphael’s plastrons.

He moaned beneath his still grinding brother, gasping in air, when he felt Raph still, a grunt slipping from the bigger turtle as he orgasmed and shuddered out his release.

Leo just laid there, waiting for him to finish, too tired to do much of anything even as Raph rolled off of him and plopped down atop the cushions beside him.

“Feel better?” He heard Raph ask, a cheeky sort of pride seeping through in his tone, and Leo just knew he was grinning at him.

“Raph…” Murmured Leo.

“Leo?” Answered Raph, and without looking, Leo knew his grin had widened. Such a smug bastard…

Propping himself up, Leo finally looked down at his lover, meeting his emerald gaze with as stern a look as he could muster. “You know what Rockwell said. We have to be careful, keep our relationship quiet and under wraps, until we can ease Donnie into the idea of what our bonding has become. If he finds out too quick, he could _freak_. I mean,” He sighed and gestured to the door, “You’ve seen him. Last thing he remembers is us being _brothers_. He walks in and finds us going at it on the floor like animals and he could completely flip and never want us to go near him again, let alone hug him or anything normal like we used to do.”

To his surprise, Raph nodded in what seemed to be agreement. “He isn’t going anywhere, Leo.” He sighed sadly, “Not at the moment anyway, but you, you and Mikey, you two _were_ going somewhere, and I didn’t like it. You were pulling away again.”

Leo sighed and shook his head, reaching over for a box of tissues that Raph had no doubt placed within reach on purpose. “I wasn’t pulling away.” He mumbled, plucking a couple to wipe himself clean with.

“Yeah-” Snorted Raph, yanking a tissue from Leo’s grasp before he could use it, “You _are_ , Leo. Mikey’s having nightmares again, and feels personally responsible for everything Donnie’s going through, while you’ve been brooding in the corner, watching Donnie like Karai watches sewer rats when she thinks we’re not looking, trying to shoulder everyone’s pain like it’s your ‘ _job as Leader_ ’ because you somehow think you’re supposed to magically fix a year and a half of _who-knows-what_ kind of hell Donnie’s been through, in a single week!”

Leo frowned but said nothing as he cleaned himself up and then tucked himself back into his protective pouch.

“I know we have to be careful.” continued Raph, “But neither of you have come to me or each other, you haven’t kissed, you haven’t tried to hug or snuggle or, _anything_ for even a moment. You’re not even _trying_ to comfort each other. The two of you are pulling away, and _dangit_ Leo, we’re not just a team anymore, we’re lovers, and you just don’t _do_ stuff like that. ‘Down-low’ doesn’t mean ‘cold-turkey’, it just means _‘quiet’_.”

He closed his eyes, his heart twisting beneath his plastron at Raphael’s words and sighed, but before he had a chance to respond-

“I’m sorry.”

Leo’s head snapped up at the soft whisper of a new voice, finding two bright blue eyes peering down at him over the edge of his bed.

“I just, I was worried you’d be mad at me like Donnie is…”

His heart clenched even tighter, and before he realized what he was doing he had tossed the soiled tissues aside and crawled up onto his bed, tugging his youngest brother in close, and wrapped him up as tight as he could against his plastron.

“Aw, Mikey.” Sighed Raph, crawling on the other side of the bed. “I’m sorry bro, I thought you were still asleep.”

He pressed in on the other side, his arms coming up to wrap around both Mikey and part of Leo.

“You guys are louder than you think you are.” Murmured Mikey, and he buried his head into Leo’s plastron.

Raph just chuckled, nuzzling into Mikey’s neck, but Leo, he was still focusing on his little brother’s previous words.

“You listen to me now, Mikey.” He said firmly in Michelangelo’s ear, “You are not responsible, for _any_ of this. What happened was because of bad people, you know that, and Donnie knows that. We love you, and always will. Donatello just needs to heal, and the only way he’ll do that is if we’re all in this together. Once he’s better, I’m sure he’ll tell you all of this himself, Ok?”

“See?” Murmured Raph into their little brother’s neck, “Told you.”

Leo wasn’t sure if it was directed at Mikey or at him, but he wasn’t about to ask. Instead, he pulled away a little and bumped Mikey’s forehead with his nose. “If you ever feel like this again, just come to one of us. If Donnie ever asks, just say it’s a nightmare, ok?”

“Yeah, you get those a lot.” Murmured Raph in agreement, “He won’t even bat an eye, I promise.”

Ever so slowly, Mikey nodded against him, a small sniffle coming from him as he leaned away just enough to look up. His eyes were as bright as ever, and his smile was just as wide as it had always been. He looked happy, but Leo could see right through it…Mikey still didn’t believe a word he was saying.

“Thanks, bro.”

“Hey,” Said Raph, giving the two of them a nudge, “You know what we haven’t tried yet? Just sitting down and watching TV. We don’t have to get so close that it’ll bother Donnie, but if we just hunker down like we used to do and watch something, he might just start to relax.”

That’s when Leo saw it, a glimmer of the old Mikey as hope and optimism flitted into those brilliantly blue eyes. “Oh, _oh_! And pizza!” He exclaimed, “And popcorn, with extra butter! Donnie likes popcorn! I bet if we leave the box and an extra bowl close enough he might just eat some of it!” He gasped and began to wiggle, a cue for both Raph and Leo to release their hold.

The moment he was free, Mikey launched off the bed and bounced up and down, his smile for the first time genuine. “We can pretend to watch a movie and not pay attention; he likes to eat when we’re not looking, right? So we just won’t look! Oh dude, it’s perfect! I’ll go make the popcorn!”

“Shower first!” Snapped Leo, but it was already too late, Mikey had shot out of the room, his excitement barely able to be contained.

“The pizza should cover the smell of sex, right?” He mumbled, and Raph shrugged.

“No idea. Though I doubt he knows what it smells like, I mean, we didn’t until we started being with each other…But,” Raph leaned over the bed and pulled up a small clear spray-bottle, “Just to be safe.”

Before Leo could get a good look at it, Raph popped off its cap and turned it on him, spraying out a foggy mixture of what smelled like Eucalyptus, Peppermint, and chemicals.

He scampered out of the way, coughing, waving his hand frantically to try and free his nostrils of the horrid stuff. “What the _shell_!?” He spluttered, but Raph just snickered, tossing the bottle aside and hopped off of the bed like nothing had happened.

“You said no more roach spray in your room, so I asked Casey to grab bug spray instead. He said it’s organic, so it’s practically air freshener, Donnie won’t be able to smell a thing through it.”

Leo glared at him but didn’t say a word, shaking his head instead as he headed for the door.

“What?” Murmured Raph, “You said no roach spray, so…”

“Nothing.” Said Leo, still fanning the air, “But if Donnie asks, I’m going to tell him I had to save you from some spiders.”

He stepped out into the hall with Raph right behind him, a smirk on his face as he headed towards the main room.

“Fat chance!” He heard Raphael snap, “If anything, _I_ had to save _you_ , which is why…”

Suddenly the air came to life with a high pitched shriek, a desperate sounding cry of “Donnie NO!” following it.

Eyes wide, Leo sprinted, his heart in his throat as he headed for the sound. What if Donnie had another episode? What he was attacking Mikey!? Shell, what if he was killing Mikey, thinking he was one of those people!?

“Let go!” Snarled the unmistakable voice of Donatello.

Fearing the worst, Leo leapt into the main room, and immediately found what he had dreaded.

Mikey had Donnie’s blood smeared arm pulled up into an arm bar hold against his plastron, both legs straddling it while he used his hips to press Donatello’s upper body to the floor.

“No!” Snapped Mikey, his voice high and frantic, “Just because you don’t value your life, doesn’t mean we don’t! Don’t do this, bro!”

Donnie however was having nothing of it. “No, you don’t, ugh, just let me go!” He snarled, fighting to get free, his movements becoming slightly desperate as he struggled to get out of the hold. That’s when Leo saw it, the glint of silver in his free hand, raising up and towards Michelangelo’s thigh.

Raph shot past him, diving for the blade as Leo hopped over the couch, bending down beside his brothers to see just where the blood was coming from.

“What is going on?” Leo heard Splinter call, “Leonardo!?” But he didn’t answer, his keen eyes narrowing in on a three-inch gouge in the middle of Donnie’s blood soaked forearm.

“Oh shell.” He breathed, ripping off his mask. “Donnie, what were you thinking?! You’ve survived too much to end it like this!”

He held the blue fabric to his brother’s wound, trying to assess just how deep it truly was, when he felt Donnie begin to tremble.

“I, no, just…” Whined Donnie, his breath beginning to quicken, his dark gaze darting from Raph, to Leo, to Mikey and then up over their shoulders where no doubt Master Splinter and possibly Karai were waiting. He made a choking sound, his legs giving one final kick, and then suddenly he went limp.

Leo continued to apply pressure despite the change, though was relieved to note that the wound in his brother’s arm wasn’t as deep as it originally seemed. It was just the top layer, a rectangular strip of flesh to be exact, one-inch-wide and three inches long, gone, almost perfectly cut to avoid major veins.

“P-please.” Donnie begged, his voice beginning to shake almost as badly as the rest of him, “Just let go. I don't like, I mean, bad memories. Please.”

“Drop the knife, and I will.” Grunted Raph, and Leo heard it clatter to the concrete almost immediately.

As promised, the bigger turtle released his grip, snatching the knife away before his brother could retrieve it. When Donnie made no move to try and get free, Leo nudged his little brother.

“Mikey.” Murmured Leo, “You next.”

Reluctantly, Mikey let go, tugging free his own mask as he did to hand to Leo.

“Thank you.” Leo whispered, and this time, he looked down at Donnie still motionless on the floor, his dark eyes now locked on the ceiling, refusing to meet any of them.

“Suicide,” Leo began, “Is not…” But Donnie interrupted, his voice still oddly shaky.

“It wasn’t.” He murmured simply.

Raph snorted, examining the kunai before he tossed it up to their father. “Yeah sure, so you just carved a hunk out of yourself for giggles then?”

“No.” Murmured Donnie, so soft Leo almost didn’t hear him. “I just wanted to get rid of it.”

“Here…” Came a soft voice, pulling Leo’s attention up. It was Karai, holding out a wad of gauze and fresh bandages.

Leo took them, letting go of Donnie and fully expecting him to rip his arm back, curl up and possibly fight them again while they attempted to bandage it, but he didn’t. Donnie didn’t move, didn’t flinch, didn’t look at any of them, he just laid there on the floor, staring at the ceiling.

“Get rid of what? Your _skin_?” Snapped Raph in disbelief, “I hate to break it to you bro, but that’s one thing you really need to keep.”

“No.” Said Donnie again, his voice even softer than before, “My name…”

Leo glanced at him, puzzled as to what he could mean, and from the tired sigh that came from Raph, he didn’t get it either, but Donnie wasn’t giving anything away, his gaze still locked on the roof like it was the only thing that mattered.

Leo sighed to himself and removed the bloodied masks, switching them out instead with fresh gauze to stem the bleeding. He was just about to pull apart the wrap, when he felt a gentle poke against his shoulder.

“His name…” Murmured Karai, and the moment he met her gaze Leo realized she was holding something, something bloody and green. “R1-13. They _branded_ him, Leo… he was trying to remove the brand.”


	7. Ch. 7

They were human, all of them dressed in long white coats with black pants and clipboards, male and female, coming to his and the others’ cages to inspect them through the glass. Though that wasn’t all they did.

Every day they’d pull out long guns, using the holes in the walls to support the barrels, and shoot out darts at Jamal and Viper. They were the same kind of fluffy tipped dart that the hunters had used to take down Mikey, and when they hit the big snake or the fluffy poodle-man, they’d go right down to the floor, limp as a noodle, but conscious. The most disturbing part however, was that despite Viper’s size, and Jamal’s attitude, all they ever did was back into the corner of their cages, growling or hissing, hunched up with teeth and fangs bared, and simply allowed the scientists to aim, and then dart them without a fight.

“You’ll learn.” Was all Jamal had to say about it, and Viper, he wasn’t any better, with his words of wisdom being, “They get you no matter what. It’ss besst to cooperate, sssave yoursself the pain.”

Like _that_ was going to happen…

The moment those twisted bastards started firing he was going to play ‘dodge the dart’ until they got tired of it and either gave up, or opened the door. Either way, he’d win.

Just like Viper said, the humans who had captured them gave Donatello a total of three days to settle before they came to the front of his cage and began to pay him any mind, only this time, there was someone new.

She had ginger hair pulled back into a bun, bright curious blue eyes, with a round face filled with freckles and a thin form that had Donnie leaping from his nest and shouting April’s name before common sense could stop him.

Of course it wasn’t her, he confirmed that the moment she opened her mouth, giving away a light foreign accent that he couldn’t place, but _wow_ did she look just like her.

At first all she and the other scientists did was take notes, studying and watching him from behind the glass as though every action he made was some sort of glorious gift that needed to examined and worshiped, mumbling to one another and jotting down notes… Shell, now he knew how Timothy felt…

On day four, that’s when they pulled out the gun.

It wasn’t the April clone who had it though, and for some reason that made him feel better, like somehow she actually cared, just like his April. It was a coping mechanism mixing with fear and optimism, he realized that, but for the moment, it was giving him the extra boost that he needed.

He bent back to avoid the dart, his heel spinning him to the left as another one aimed for his calf. They were persistent, he’d give them that much, but they were thankfully fairly predictable.

Kicking off the ground he dodged another, hitting the wall and springing up it to gain enough momentum to propel him across the cage.

“Damnit.” Cursed a thickly built man, his glasses tipping to the bridge of his nose as he looked down at the ammunition's chamber. “I knew you were going to be a difficult son of a…”

“Now, now Mathis, language.” Warned his partner, a thinner but just as sturdy man with tan skin and light brown eyes. “There’s a Lady present.” He handed out another dart, waiting for his partner to take it, only this time his partner didn’t.

The one called Mathis glanced down at his watch, an eyebrow raising before he looked back at Donnie. “Damn thing is putting us behind Schedule. The Doc’s going to be ticked. Come on, let’s just get it already.”

Donnie’s gaze flicked from the barrel of the gun to the people at the front of his cage, and smirked. They’d have to open his cage now, they had no choice.

The woman so similar to April sighed and glanced up from her clipboard. “Limitet stress.” She said in that same strange accent, “New subjehcts ahr to be dahrtet, you knoh how Docktah Ashahr is abowt dem.”

“Yeah.” Grunted Mathis, handing the gun out to his partner, “I do. I also know how ticked off he gets when we fall behind. I’m head of today, and I don’t feel like getting my face chewed off because this _wanabe-frog_ keeps playing ‘dodge the dart’. Now please, just this once Ariel, don’t argue with me.”

Donnie narrowed his eyes as the April-clone threw up her hands and moved over to a small counter. She didn’t argue with them, didn’t say a word in fact, instead she just picked something up, a syringe from the look of it, and began walking towards his cage.

 _‘Alright!’_ Thought Donnie, his gaze already finding the door to sweet freedom, _‘She’ll be easy to out maneuver, and once I’m out, I’ll just…’_

A grinding sound pulled him from thought, snapping his attention up onto the ceiling. Something was clicking on, a gear and motor type sound, when he noticed something else, the front wall to his cage, was moving.

With every step the girl known as ‘Ariel’ took, the wall moved closer, and closer, narrowing the space in the cage with frightening speed.

“What…?” Murmured Donnie in disbelief, his eyes widening as he glanced from corner to corner. “No, no, you were supposed to open the door.”

His heart began to pound as the space drastically narrowed, closing in on him the closer the red head came. He was running out of room.

Donnie spun, checking the wall, darted to the corner and then to the other, his heart hammering against his plastron as everywhere he turned led him to the exact same conclusion. He was trapped, and just like Viper and Jamal had warned, they were going to get him, no matter what…

“No, no, no.” He whispered, backing up with his heart in his throat until his carapace clicked against the wall, the glass only inches away now, with April’s clone closing in, either oblivious to his distress or unconcerned about it.

He raised his arms and braced against the impending crusher, pushing with all his might against it to stop it or even slow its advances; but no matter how much he pushed and strained against it, his efforts did nothing. It didn’t slow, it didn’t pause, it pressed in against him, slowly forcing his arms in tight against his plastron. “Oh, come _on_!” He grunted, the glass crushing into him until all he could do was stand there, the wall so tight against him he could barely breathe.

“And, Voilà!” Murmured Mathis, “One restrained and ready to be sedated specimen.”

He looked up and met her gaze, those beautiful eyes so alike to his April, and couldn’t help but plead. “Please…” He murmured, hoping to reach her, to see a flicker of remorse or maybe even pity, but no.

She pulled out the syringe, paying him no mind as she flicked its side, liquid squirting out from an obscenely large needle. Then, without hesitation or any hint of care, she bent down and stuck him straight in his thigh.

He hissed and gritted his teeth as it entered, the sting of pain the needle brought paling in comparison to the burn that followed. It spider webbed through his thigh as the liquid entered, moving through him with lightning speed, clawing and ripping at every inch until his whole body had been consumed by it.

It hurt, but he refused to cry out, refused to let them know just how much it stung, and waited for the sedation to take effect. Only it never did.

Despite his awareness they opened the door, and he discovered very quickly just what they had done. The pain may have been slowly wearing off, but he was paralyzed, completely at their mercy as the bigger men wheeled up a cart, pulled his limp form out and hoisted him up and onto the cold steel.

Once they strapped him in, they began to wheel him away. As frustrating as it was to have failed, at least there was an upside. They were bringing him to a part of the lab he’d never seen before, expanding his mental map and making escape seem far more plausible. Like for example, discovering that there was a five-inch thick steel door that could only be opened by a passcode between him and the rest of the building. It would require hacking to get through, something he’d need to be ready for when the time came.

Through the door, immediate left, down a steel lined hall to another door just like the first. Once through it, and that’s when he found himself in the true definition of a laboratory.

There were strange machines he didn’t recognize everywhere, cages with glass fronts just like his lining the white walls, with shelves filled with books and vials, tubes and different colored beakers everywhere. There were large screened computers and monitors that only in his wildest dreams could he hope to find at the dump, and so much more.

It smelled a bit like latex and stale chemicals, but was beautiful all the same, and if he wasn’t ninety-nine point nine percent certain that everything in the room he had been wheeled into was going to be used on _him_ at some point, he would’ve died of joy to be able to get up and examine it all, test it out and then open it up, just to see how it worked so he could build his own.

They wheeled him to the center of the room beside a steel examination table, a mirror hanging high above it with lights dangling down on metallic arms to better move them here and there. There was a monitor hanging down as well, and what appeared to be a camera lodged up beside the mirror, aimed and focused directly down on them.

He didn’t see any knives, at least not right then, so that was good. No dissection or cutting him up into pieces. Plus, there was the added benefit of knowledge of Viper and Jamal still being alive after all this time, so death wasn’t exactly something they strived for. Hopefully…

“Look, uh, if this some sort of examination.” Murmured Donnie as the men closed in, undoing the restraints one by one, “I’m fairly certain that I can make this a lot simpler for all of us by just answering a few questions, or…”

“One, two, three.” Grunted the men, completely ignoring him as they lifted him on three, and plopped him down atop the examination table.

“Or,” Donnie continued, letting out a nervous chuckle as they pulled up leather straps and bound his ankles, his wrists, and then shoulders. “I could give you a complete, A plus material lecture on how mutants like myself work. Surely we can come to some sort of understanding here, this is about science and discovery, right? You know, heh, heh, work _together_ not _against_. Right?”

A shadow loomed over him, a freckled face with beautiful blue eyes following as Ariel peered at him. “Oh, greh _t_.” She mumbled under her breath, “Anoddah talkah. Can we muzzle dis one dis time?”

“Oh, great.” Donnie murmured, giving her a glare as his temper twitched, “It’s a bitch, _exactly_ the kinda person I wanted examining me today. How about someone gives her some valium before we proceed, hmm?”

Well, his comments before might not have gotten a reaction, but that one certainly did.

Both men snorted, a resounding laugh echoing from somewhere on the other side of the lab as the April-clone frowned. She looked up at the men and snapped, _“Shu _t_ up.”_ Before she pulled away and disappeared from Donnie’s view.

“Well, well.” Chuckled a new voice, male, upbeat, with a hint of a New Jersey accent, “If I hadn’t seen the blood results for myself I’d assume this one was human to start.”

A face appeared above him as someone new loomed in. He was younger looking, maybe early thirties with a baby face, dark green eyes with dark combed back hair, the scruff along his chin no doubt an attempt to look his age.

“Miss. Nowak.” He murmured, glancing up in the direction the April-clone had disappeared, “Clipboard ready please? Remember, we’re professionals.”

Donnie couldn’t help but roll his eyes. “Professionals who happen to study mutants who were once human, who you kidnapped off the streets for who knows what reason.”

Cold hands suddenly touched his skin, and if he hadn’t still been under the influence of the paralysis drug he would’ve jumped.

“Skin appears to be more human.” Murmured one of the men, “Color is closer to original species, Trachemys scripta elegans, common name; Red eared slider.”

“Slight leathering around the knees and elbows, appears more turtle.” Murmured Mathis, another pair of cold hands tracing his arm and leg, “Partial leathering around shoulder joint, connection to the inner walls of the carapace and plastron.”

“The sides appear to be a mixture of cartilage and skin.” Said the first man, when Donnie felt something sharp stick into his left arm and stay there.

He hissed and closed his eyes, his jaw clenching shut, right as something else dug into his opposite shoulder. His eyes popped back open as whatever it was stabbed and burrowed, forcing a startled cry from him as what felt like a hunk of flesh was slowly being ripped from his bicep.

“That is a beautiful flesh sample.” Murmured who, Donnie could only assume, was the head doctor. “Ariel, if you wouldn’t mind bagging that, we’ll need to do some testing on it later. And here, the blood samples too if you don’t mind.”

“Shell!” Snapped Donnie as he felt them poke and prod around the place they’d pulled a hunk of flesh from, his eyes watering from pain, “Haven’t any of you heard of anesthetics!? I mean seriously, I…” His words died in his throat as a hand wrapped around his tail, gingerly pulling it out and away from his shell.

 _“Woah_ , now!” He squeaked, “Woah, woah, _woah_. Watch those hands, that is sensitive!”

Someone rotated his head, shifting it to the left to examine the back of his neck.

“Tail appears to be missing a cloaca.” Murmured the scientist who held it, “Subject has what appears to be an anus, but no sign of a penis. Tail is carried up high, muscles are tight from what appears to be prolonged defiance of natural placement.”

“Yeah well, land on it once and you tend to keep it up tight.” Muttered Donnie, “Can you put it back now? This is awk- _YIPE_!”

His eyes bugged wide as tingles of warmth he did not want began to spread through his gut at a stranger’s touch. They were trailing their fingers feather-light down the center line of his plastron, pressing here and there until they neared the bottom, growing dangerously close to the hidden slit that housed his more intimate parts.

“Ok!” He squeaked when they reached it, the latex hands pausing as the hard shell became a softer cartilage. “And, I’m sure you’ve learned a lot today, why don’t we call it a day and…”

He was silenced as fingers dipped into the slit’s opening, gently easing the lips to it open to expose his member.

He sucked in a gasp, wishing he could snap his head up and bite at whoever the heck was touching him, when to his relief, they slipped out of it and let his penis be.

“Oh thank shell…” He sighed.

“Penis appears to be located internally.” Murmured Mathis, “Placed in the front similarly to a human. Shape appears to be more in line with human anatomy, potentially bigger. Inside of the penis’s housing is fleshy, while the outside is protected by a harder substance. Cartilage most likely.”

“Very interesting.” Murmured the head Scientist, “Are testicles visible?”

“No…” Muttered Donnie, his cheeks burning in embarrassment.

“No.” Mathis confirmed.

It went on like that for what felt like forever, their hands running across his body like he was an object, a thing to be studied, on and on, talking over him like he wasn’t even there or capable of understanding them.

Finally, the hands pulled away. Donnie sighed in relief, testing his fingers and toes, yet still he couldn’t move. Whatever this drug was, it was effective.

“What’s the subject’s identification number?” Asked the head scientist, pulling the monitor close to punch a few things into the screen, “R1…”

“R1-12.” Called Ariel’s voice, “Oh, wait, my mistake. Sorry Dr.; R1- _13_.”

“Species; Reptile.” Murmured the head man, typing across the screen, “Room; one. Subject Number; thirteen, and done. Jack, if you would bring that over here, please?”

Donnie still couldn’t move his head, but he could hear something big and heavy being rolled across the tile.

“Oh, perfect.” Hummed the doctor, “It’s been warmed up, right?”

“Yes sir.”

Whatever _it_ was rolled into view, a large black metal box with a rounded top on wheels, standing just level with the table.

The head man pulled it in close, lining it up about a foot away before he reached under the examination table, and tugged out an extension of the table.

“Releasing left arm.” Grunted Mathis, and Donnie felt the restraints from his arm and shoulders slip.

Curiously he watched as much as he could as the head man tugged his arm onto the table and began strapping it down.

“The Iron is at optimal temperature,” Came Ariel’s voice again, “R1-13 is immobile. Ready when you are, Dr.”

The head man gave Donnie’s arm a quick shake, making sure it wasn’t loose, before he turned back to the black box.

He typed in something on its side, and the box clicked, popping up and apart on hinges like the lid to a chest. It lifted up, a wave of heat pouring from its inside, out and across Donnie’s arm.

“Iron?” Donnie repeated, his voice wavering as he watched the heat radiate out from the device. “What, uh, what do you need a high temperature Iron for? I’m a turtle, not fire proof.”

Like before they simply ignored him, focusing instead on shifting the box up and over, until it hovered just a few feet away from Donatello’s arm.

He could feel the heat pouring from it, see it as it shivered down from the box’s lid and bounced against his arm.

“Ok.” Donnie squeaked, his heart beginning to pound all over again, “Um, I’m lost, what are you doing? Because this seems incredibly unnecessary.”

“Ready for branding in three, two…”

“Branding!?” Snapped Donnie on one, finally realizing just what they were about to do, when the head scientist pushed the heated lid down flush against Donatello’s skin.

He’d been blown up, been electrocuted, slammed into walls, broken bones, sewed shut his own lacerations without any anesthetic and even treated minor burns from chemical explosions, but nothing, absolutely nothing, compared to the excruciating pain that seared in that moment through his forearm.

He couldn’t move, but he could scream as what he knew was a hot iron burned into his flesh. He couldn’t look away, and even though he couldn’t see his arm or the thing searing into his skin, he could smell his own tissue cooking.

Just as quickly as it had happened, the box lifted up, pulling away from his arm to be returned to its other half.

“Perfect.” Said the head scientist, a cheery lilt to his voice as he bent down to inspect Donnie’s arm. “And still conscious. This one has a high pain threshold, very nice.”

All Donatello could do was gasp, his gaze locking in on his forearm where blood was now oozing.

“Let’s patch R1-13 up, give him an antibiotic injection, long lasting preferably, and get him back to his cage.”

Still gasping in air, Donnie stared glassy eyed at his arm, focusing on it, trying to tell just what had been burned into him. He made out an R, a one, a dash, and then, when he squinted, the number thirteen. R1-13.

His lips moved without meaning to, the words, “What is wrong with you people?” Whispered out on a breathy gasp that caught the head scientist’s attention.

The young man turned, meeting Donnie’s gaze for the very first time, and smiled.

“You,” He said simply, “Are a _thing_ , neither man nor beast. It’s best if you get used to that R1-13, or your time here is going to be very difficult on you.”

“My name,” Hissed Donnie through clenched teeth, and he felt a tear slide down his cheek that he hadn’t even realized was there, “Is Donatello.”

Again, all the man did was smile, his head tilting slightly as he reached out to check Donnie’s pulse. “Individual names are given to people to identify them.” He murmured, “Humans, choose to give animals identifying names when they feel a connection with them. You however are neither human nor animal; you’re not even a pet. Whatever you thought you were before doesn’t matter, because _you_ , are a creation, a thing, a freak, but that’s ok, because we’ve found you a purpose, and that purpose is to serve humanity. Congratulations, R1-13, you’ll be helping make our world a much better place.”

Donnie narrowed his eyes, but didn’t say a word, wishing he could turn his neck and look away.

 _‘My brothers will find me.’_ He repeated over and over as they dressed his wounds instead, poking and prodding at them like he was some kind of pin cushion that couldn’t feel pain, _‘Shell guys, just make it soon.’_


	8. Ch. 8

There was one question that he had pondered almost nonstop since he awoke and realized he was finally free two months ago; how could his brothers, Karai, and his father, stand to be near him?

Leo said Rockwell took all of his files, so they had to know about everything, right?

Unless they weren’t actually his brothers and he was in a comatose state and dreaming, or continuously being drugged somehow. He had limited food and water intake, his brothers had only manhandled him once, ruling out injection, and as far as he could smell the air quality hadn’t changed. Plus, there was the known fact that the drug needed to be administered into his blood stream to take effect, which he knew hadn’t been done.

A coma was still possible, though highly unlikely. Every single time they had slipped him into one, his mind had been blank, a jet black wall of nothing, with only an occasional muffled sound here and there; but then again…

_‘No, no, come on Thir…I mean, Donnie.’_ He thought, tugging the blanket in around him, his eyes clenching shut, _‘You’re awake, you’re home, you’re free. You’re awake, and you are HOME, and you are FREE.’_

Maybe they _didn’t_ know about everything, maybe Rockwell had spared him the humiliation by leaving out some of the details? Yeah, that was it; Rockwell had grown a heart given the severity of the situation and done Donnie a favor, that was why his family was still trying, still coming to him, still wanting to be near and around him.

Yet, they were asking questions, trying to encourage him to talk, to sleep, to eat, to trust them… 

Maybe Rockwell didn’t tell them everything, maybe Rockwell actually hid all that he found out, but why? What purpose would it serve? Unless, he was working for _them_. He was a Dr. after all, a scientist, just like those humans; maybe he was actually working with them to drag him and his brothers all right back to…

_‘No, no, stop it. You’re getting yourself worked up.’_ He scolded, clenching his closed eyelids tighter, _‘Your brothers are just concerned. Rockwell isn’t working for anyone but the Mutanimals, he’s a mutant; they would’ve grabbed him and thrown him behind glass by now. Just take a deep breath and…’_

Just then something brushed against his shoulder, smooth and gentle, like skin, like fingers, hands that weren’t his own, and he reacted on reflex.

He flinched from it, a growl rumbling in throat as he bared his teeth, his gaze snapping open to find his target, fully expecting pain, needles, or to be grabbed at any moment.

The hand yanked away, green skin and pitying dark blue eyes staring back at him through a bright blue mask.

“Sorry.” Said Leo quickly. “I thought you heard me.”

Donnie’s eyes widened, the growl disappearing the moment he realized it was Leonardo. He was so close, sitting but inches away on the couch with a bag at his feet. Leo had gotten close, too close, and Donnie hadn’t even heard. 

He looked away, ashamed, and tugged the blanket around him tighter. Some ninja _he_ was…

“Hey, it’s ok.” Said Leo in that same soft tone that everyone had been using around him, “I’ll just make sure to be louder next time. I, uh, brought you something special.”

The rustling of paper reached Donnie’s ears as Leo pulled something from the bag at his feet. Donnie eyed him, a mixture of curiosity and wariness as his brother tugged a white paper take-out box and what appeared to be a tub of soup up onto the couch. 

“Mikey’s been visiting Mr. Murakami a lot with, uh, you know, our friends.” He cleared his throat and set the soup down between them, leaving the take-out box on his knee as he began to pry open the soup’s lid. “Well, he was so happy to hear you were back that he made you some gyoza, hot off the pan, then when I mentioned you weren’t eating all that great, he decided to make you a pizza broth.”

The lid popped open, and Donnie eyed it, the clear golden liquid that could easily be a way to sedate or immobilize him.

“There’s nothing in it.” Added Leo, lifting it hopefully, “It’s just liquid, and nutrients, something to help keep your strength up.”

The closer Leo’s hand came, the farther away Donnie leaned, instinct telling him to keep the possible impostor away, while pride begged him not to get too close, to keep his brother at bay, and prevent him from becoming…contaminated…

He looked away in shame, focusing on the floor, anywhere but his brother and the food he was offering him. He was hoping Leonardo would give up just like all the times before, let out a sigh, set down the food and return to his room where Mikey was no doubt hiding from the nightmares. Though, oddly he had seen his little brother disappear into Raph’s room a few times…

“Come on.” Murmured Leo, and Donnie felt him scoot just a little bit closer, “Please Donnie, you’re wasting away. Just a few good bites and one good gulp, that’s all I’m asking.”

It was almost as though he were pleading with him…

Turning his head away, Donnie closed his eyes and leaned away as far as he could without moving or tipping over, silently praying Leo would just leave.

“Please.” Whispered Leo, “Just something. If you’re uncomfortable eating out here you can always take it to your room, or the lab, or…”

Donnie whipped around, his eyes flashing dangerously at the mention of the lab. “No!” He snapped. 

He had to give the older turtle credit, Leo didn’t flinch or even move as Donnie faced him, didn’t even blink at the prospect of danger. Instead, he just sat there, holding the soup with a pleading look as though begging him to just take it and try.  
Well, Leo could beg and plead all he wanted. There was no way Donatello was setting foot in that lab, or his old room; the whole thing filled with knives and beakers, scientific experiments and design plans and a whole lot of _‘not-going-to-happen’!_

He was about to whip back and curl into the couch or maybe even his shell, when a sweet yet fragrant scent flitted past his nose. Donnie paused, sniffing once, twice, and glanced down, following the enticing smell down to the soup in Leo’s hand.

It smelled good. It smelled _really_ good. 

His mouth began to drool, his stomach giving a painful gurgle, every inch of him suddenly begging him to grab it, to suck it down before Leo changed his mind and tried to take it away.

Hesitantly he reached out a shaking hand and grasped the warm plastic. Leo started to let go, but as he did, Donnie nearly lost his grip, and so he grabbed at it again.

“Easy.” Murmured Leo, helping ease the tub of soup closer to Donnie’s plastron, “Both hands bro, you got this.”

For the first time he ignored how close Leo was, focusing instead on the delicious flavors that were beckoning to his stomach. With both hands now grasped onto the soup like a lifeline, he bent a bit closer and took a good whiff.

What if it was drugged? Would Leo drug it? Well, ok, yes, to make Donnie sleep he’d probably drug it, but Leo would never have any ill intentions. Unless it _wasn’t_ Leo… No, no-no, it was Leo. 

He’d just taste it, that’s all, just give it a good inspecting and then decide from there. That was the safe way to play it.

_‘Yeah.’_ He told himself as he raised it to his lips, _‘I’ll just taste it.’_ But the moment the delightfully warm liquid touched his tongue and slid down his throat, welcoming him to a new world of flavorful euphoria, his brain twitched, and any caution he had was thrown to the wind.

“I’m eating this.” Was all he managed to growl in Leo’s direction before he buried his face in the plastic tub and began to chug.

“Woah, easy.” He heard Leo say, “Slowly, slowly or you’ll make yourself sick!”

He felt Leo reach for the tub, to take it away no doubt, and Donnie pulled away from it just long enough to growl at him in warning, and thankfully this time Leo listened.

His brother snapped his hand back, but didn’t recoil, instead just sat there, so close now Donnie could feel his breath. “I don’t want it, I swear.” Leo promised, “Just take it easy Donnie, little sips, or you’ll choke, or worse, throw it up. I can always go back and get you more. I promise.”

He had a point, but _shell_ this soup was good!

Making sure his brother wasn’t about to try and snatch it away, Donnie looked back at the half empty tub of soup, and begrudgingly began to take smaller sips. 

“There you go.” Murmured Leo, his voice soft and gentle, like he was talking to a sick person, “Just take it easy, sip, and enjoy. Then once you’re done I can take a look at that arm of yours. Maybe even talk a little bit about…”

There it was again, his brother’s instance to get him to talk.

“No.” Snapped Donnie between sips.

As far as he was concerned there was nothing to talk about. If they wanted to know what happened so badly, the shame of what Donnie had allowed those sick monsters to do to him, then they could go find Rockwell and ask him why he hadn’t filled them all in sooner.

Leo sighed, but didn’t seem ready to quit. “I just want to check if it’s healing right.” He said gently, “I understand why you did it, but it was a bad wound, and if it’s not healing right then Master Splinter will have to help it.”

“No.” Murmured Donnie, trying to ignore the fact that his soup was growing dangerously low. “It’s healing. Leave it alone.”

One more sip and the wonderful broth would be gone, a painful realization, but at least, for the first time in what felt like forever, his stomach was full.

“Ok,” Said Leo, still in that same soft tone, “That’s good, but can I just be sure? Like, you can show it to me then and…”

Taking the final sip, Donnie shook his head and swallowed, “No.” He said again.

He didn’t want Leo touching it, or touching him, not when he didn’t deserve it…

Leo sighed again, this time harsher, a hint of impatience in it. “You know,” He said, still calm, still gentle, “I know it hurts to remember, but talking about it is supposed to help, you know. It doesn’t have to be much, maybe just starting with your arm, and why?”

Donnie glared down at the empty cup in his hands, refusing to meet his brother’s eye. “It’s nothing.” He whispered, “Just go away, Leo.” But Leo didn’t go away.

“No.” He said this time, “I’m your brother, your leader, “I’m supposed to keep you all safe and help you when you’re down. I’m here for you, just like Mikey, just like Raph, Master Splinter, Karai, Casey, and even April. We just want to see you get better.”

“I _am_ better.” Donnie murmured, “I’m free. Just go to bed, Leo. I’m fine.”

“Donnie.” Said Leo again, this time firmer, “You cut out a chunk of your arm, and all you can say to explain yourself is that you wanted to get rid of your name. You flinch from us like we’re going to hurt you, and you act as though you don’t want us near you. We love you Donatello, and we just want to help you heal, and burying it the way you are is doing nothing but destroying yourself slowly. Please Donnie, you’re home and free now, they can’t hurt you anymore, just let us help you. Let us in.”

No, Donnie wasn’t going to look at him, wasn’t going to acknowledge his words. He’d be fine, just like he had been for over a year and a half.

“Donnie,” Whispered Leo, “Would you at least look at me?”

He clenched his eyes shut and turned away. He was going to fight this on his own; his brothers didn’t need to be burdened with the truth, the disgusting horrible despicable truth that he had allowed to happen to himself. If he had just fought harder, thought faster, moved quicker, then none of it would’ve happened in the first place!

“Donnie…”

It was all his fault, his stupid slow witted, idiotic…

“R1-13.”

An engraved instinct kicked in at the sound of his _‘name’_ , causing him to snap up and meet the speaker head on.

A mortified Leo looked back at him, his dark blue eyes swimming with tears he was fighting to control.

Donnie realized what he had done, his heart sinking and mind cursing in frustration at his honed response to that blasted name.

“I…” Donnie began, when Leo interrupted, his jaw quivering.

“You.” He said stiffly, “Are my brother, Donatello. Not a lab animal, not an experiment. You are a ninja, a proud, noble warrior who we all love. You’re not whatever those horrible monsters tried to turn you into, you are my brother.”

Before Donnie realized what was happening, Leo had his arms around him, pulling into a tight embrace that had him squished against his brother’s plastron. 

“I love you.” Leo breathed, “We all do, and I’m so sorry we couldn’t find you faster.”

Leo had him, Leo was holding him, _touching_ him, _restraining_ him. Donnie’s eyes widened, his heart seizing beneath his plastron. Leo shouldn’t be touching him; he shouldn’t have even tried.

“N-no, let go.” He choked, dropping the cup to push against Leo’s grip, but Leo didn’t, he didn’t even budge just a little. 

Donnie’s arms shook with the effort, but his brother, fit and well fed, was far stronger, and held onto him without even a sweat. 

“I don’t, _stop_.” Donnie whimpered, his heart beating so fast he knew Leo could hear it, he struggled again, but all it did was drain him, each attempt to get free growing weaker and weaker, until all Donnie could do was gasp. 

Leo shouldn’t be touching him, none of his family should, not with what he’d done…And yet, it felt nice, warm, and best of all, it felt sort of… safe.

“You’re, impossible.” Panted Donnie, his shoulders sagging as he gave up. He thunked his head against a firm green shoulder, his guard still up just in case it was a trick, and couldn’t help but feel the pulse of his brother’s heartbeat thumping gently against his cheek. He had wondered what it would feel like to be this close to one of them again, to hold, to be held. If only he wasn’t such a mess, so filthy and unworthy… 

“I thought Raph was supposed to be the stubborn one.”

Leo chuckled beneath him, a strained almost teary sound. “Apparently that’s _you_ now.” His brother took a deep breath, the sound and feel of his steady breathing against Donnie’s plastron having a calming effect. 

“Look.” Said Leo gently in his ear, “When you’re ready, we can talk, ok? But for now, can you at least just try to sleep? Sleeping’s good for…”

“No.” Murmured Donnie firmly, shaking his head some, “Sleep brings me back, back to them, back to touching grabbing hands and pain, pain and, and…I don’t want to go back.” He clenched his eyes shut and shifted, burying his face in the familiar scent and neck of his oldest brother. “I don’t ever want to go back.”

“Shh.” Whispered Leo, his hand coming up to cradle the back of Donnie’s head, “I’m here, we all are. We’ll keep you safe, and you’ll never go back again, I promise.”

“Promise…” Repeated Donnie, his body growing heavy. He tried to open his eyes, only he couldn’t, the darkness beckoning to him like an old friend, wiling him to sleep. “The last person who made a promise to me, I got killed.” 

“Just sleep.” He heard Leo breathe as though from a distance, “I’ll stay right here, until you wake up.”

He shouldn’t be doing this; resting, touching, leaning up against one of his brothers like everything was ok and back to what it was before.

Things weren’t ok, and things weren’t back to normal, they probably never would be, but for now, at least for this one stolen moment, it was nice to pretend.


	9. Ch. 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Warning!**  
> Mild violence  
> Rape/Non-con

 

Viper and Jamal had warned him, but a part of him just couldn’t find it in himself to believe humans could stoop to such depravities. Yet when they came for him two weeks later, ready to drag him out for the second trip just like the both of them had warned, Donnie knew that he was going to fight them with every single ounce of strength he had.

“Are you going to cooperate this time, R1-13?” Called the one named Mathis, the gun cocked but not loaded this time as the man in white assessed him. “I promise you’ll like this trip.”

Donnie didn’t say a word to him, just kept his gaze locked on the gun, his feet slipping into a ready-to-move stance, daring the man to make his move.

“Docktah Ashahr said to just sku _ish_ him dis time.” Called an accented voice, and Ariel, the spitting image of his April, stepped into view. “He doesn’t want to _weh_ st dahrts.”

 _‘Excellent.’_ Thought Donnie, his eyes narrowing.

Mathis snorted and handed the gun out to his partner. “Smart man.” He mumbled and stepped aside, fixing his glasses as the April-clone advanced on the cage just like last time.

The gears began to turn above him as she stepped close, the glass sliding in to compress him against the wall, closer and closer.

He had a plan, one that he knew would work, he just needed to wait for the right moment, get into position, and then spring. If there was one thing he knew they were, it was predictable.

The wall came within inches of him.

 _‘One…Two…Three…’_ And he leapt, feeling the glass press up against his plastron, and sucked himself into his shell, making sure to take special care of the still tender wound along his left arm. As he fell, the glass caught him, wedging him successfully between it and the wall. It was tight, compressing his arms and legs in against his organs in a way that made breathing difficult, but he stuck with it, knowing exactly what was about to happen.

“Huh…” He heard Ariel murmur, right as something pricked against his plastron. It poked him again and again, shifting to a groove and then each scute as though to check to see if the outcome would be different.

It wasn’t, just like he knew it wouldn’t be.

“Clevah little deen.” Murmured Ariel, sounding almost impressed. “Madis, get da pokah fohr me.”

“Wha? Why?”

“He sucked into his shell.”

“So? Just stick ’em.”

“I _can’t!_ Why do you dink I asked fohr da pokah?!”

As they bickered, Donnie grinned to himself and listened to the sounds of feet approaching. The next step would no doubt hurt like a punch from Shredder himself. He gritted his teeth, knowing full well that they were either about to stab through his plastron to sedate him, or electrocute him. He was rooting for electrocution; for _that_ he could withstand. A stab through his plastron; well, _that_ not so much.

“Would you look at that.” Murmured Mathis, sounding closer than before, “Smart little thing, isn’t he? Here, give him a poke. Make him come out.”

“Please be electrocution…” Donnie murmured under his breath, scrunching his eyes closed as he prepared for the ouch.

Within seconds he felt it, the sharp sting of pain and then the flood that followed as volts of electricity seared through every nerve. His muscles clenched and twitched within his shell, his teeth slamming shut so hard he swore he felt one crack, but he hung on, fighting through it the best he could, refusing to give in or pop out.

It felt like forever, a prolonged torture of pure agony that ripped and clawed, but finally it stopped, the Ariel woman pulling the ‘poker’ away with a confused sort of hum.

“Huh.” She murmured, “No _w_ what?”

Donnie panted against his plastron, fighting to suck in air against the wall that still held him smushed in place. He heard Mathis mimic the curious sound, and then heard the words he’d been hoping for.

“Alright then, Ariel, get back. Eric, grab a pole, and get ready to open it.”

“Uh, are you sure?” Came the uneasy voice of the other man, “You know that’s what it wants.”

“Do you have any _other_ suggestions?” Mathis snapped, “We’ve never had one that, well, sucks into a shell before. Just be quick.”

 _‘Yes!’_ Donnie cheered internally, _‘That’s right, open the door so I can punch you in the face, you bastards.'_

“Alright, _you’re_ the boss.” Murmured the one known as Eric, and Donnie felt the door slide open, felt himself begin to fall, and his eyes snapped open.

Years of ninja training kicked in, warning him of danger from his right, and he shot out, one hand snapping around a wrist, twisting it back to force the holder to drop the syringe, while his other snapped around a thin metal rod, crackling with life, that had been aimed for his side.

“Shit!” Someone yelped, a shadow looming, and Donnie twisted out of the way, the needle meant for his shoulder snapping as it stabbed into his carapace instead.

“Go _go_ , get’em Donnie, _get’em_!!” He heard Jamal roar, “Give the bastards hell!”

“Just hold it!” Mathis snarled, but Donnie was twisting again, breaking the scientist’s hold on the ‘poker’ with a simple flick of his wrist.

He wrenched the poker around, the crackle of electricity whooshing past, and stabbed it straight into Eric’s gut.

He would’ve enjoyed watching him twitch if he didn’t have to duck again, Mathis diving at him once more, aiming for his wounded arm.

Donnie spun and kicked, sparing his injury, but was unable to avoid the blow all together.

“On your left, on your _left!_ ” Hissed Viper.

Mathis slammed into Donnie’s side and drove him to the ground with a grunt, one hand wrapping around Donnie’s fist and the poker, while the other shifted, attempting to wrap under Donatello’s shoulder and neck. “Ariel!” He shouted, “Sedate, sedate!”

Knowing exactly what the man was trying to do, Donnie fought, twisting and turning to throw him off his carapace, but he was heavy, and not only that, the man was _good_ , no doubt trained to deal with mutants just like him. Mathis stabbed his thumb into Donnie’s wrist, burrowing into a pressure point that weakened his hold on the poker, when Donnie felt something bump against his hand.

It was the syringe that Eric had dropped.

The Ariel girl was sprinting across the room towards them with the cart to restrain him, and it was now or never.

Letting out a grunt, Donnie snatched up the needle and twisted, driving it down clean into whatever bit of flesh he could reach.

Mathis let out a snarl, letting go to try and stop him, but Donnie’s thumb had already pressed down as the man ripped away, pumping him full of whatever was inside.

“Fuck!” He heard the man curse, “You son-of-a…” But he never got to finish, as Donnie’s knee came up and slammed full force into his throat, silencing him.

“HA!” He heard Jamal cackle, “Go turtle go! You show ’em who’s boss!”

The man in white hit the ground and was out, but as Donnie scrambled to his feet, a pair of arms snapped around him. Before he knew it, he was in the air, his legs swept out from beneath him, and being slammed against cold steel.

“ _H_ old him, _hold_ him!” Screeched Ariel, as Donnie kicked and swung, struggling to sit back upright.

“Damnit, I’m trying!”

“Bite them!” Roared Viper over the fray. “Go for the eyesss!”

And suddenly the heavy man was on the table with him, straddling his waist where he latched onto one of Donnie’s arms and twisted it down across his throat, bending it as far as it would go while he used his weight to keep Donnie still.

It was frightening just how strong this man truly was, able to hold and restrain him, with effort yes, but he was _human!_ Donnie was a mutant, strong and trained, he should’ve been able to throw this man off and get away without a problem, shouldn’t he?

“No.” Grunted Donnie, twisting and fighting desperately to get away, when something soft hooked around his free wrist, and before Donnie could stop it, slammed it down tight against the steel.

Next his ankle, then the other, grabbed and pulled tight with machine worthy strength just like his arm.

“Let go!” He roared as his movements were restricted more and more, “Just let me go!”

The soft thing snapped tight across his middle, and finally he saw what it was. The straps were mechanical, and as she threw them across his plastron and buckled them, they reeled in with a snap that pulled him tight and kept him still.

“No-o!” Donnie wailed as the final strap was set around his only remaining wrist, his freedom snatched away with a mechanical pull that ripped his arm away and stole any chance of escape he had left.

“Stop, please! Just let me go!” He begged as Eric slipped off of him, and Ariel slapped the final restraint tight across his shoulders.

He cursed and thunked his head against the steel as the heaving humans grabbed at the cart and began to wheel him away.

“Why isn’t it sedated?” He heard Eric snap, “This could have gone a lot smoother if-”

“I drropped it, _o_ k?” hissed Ariel, “I’m not used to dem gettink loose, I panecked and drropped da bottle, it smahshed, and now Madis is unconscious. Should we call someone?”

“Nah,” Heaved Eric, “They’ve got cameras everywhere, I’m sure they’ve already got a team heading here to clean up. They don’t send anyone until it’s restrained or it’s killed everyone in the room, anyway. Little bastard, I knew this thing was going to be a problem.”

They conversed like that as they pushed him, out the door, down the hall, past a group of men rushing past them with a stretcher, and out into the lab where they had brought him the first time.

“I’m s _oh_ ry Docktah Ashahr.” Said Ariel immediately, “R1-13 is not sed _eh_ ted, we-”

“Yes, yes so I heard,” Came the voice from the head scientist, the sound alone enough to make Donnie cringe, “Looks like R1-13 is quite the trouble maker, hmm?”

His face appeared, looming over Donnie with that same awful smile in place.

“Don’t worry, this is why Jack’s here. He’s great at restraints. Deep breath, Miss. Nowak. Mr. Davis, looks like today we’re going _au naturel_.”

What he should’ve said was something more along the lines of, _‘hang on to your butts, this is going to be a rough ride.’_ Or, _‘get ready to grab him and hang on.’_ For Donatello bucked and bit, flailed, and kicked every chance he got, twisting and pulling to get away from the men and women that he wanted nothing to do with, but it was in vain.

The people who held him moved quickly, focusing on strapping down one arm and leg at a time, slowly shifting him over to the examination table until he was once more completely at their mercy.

Just like last time, once he was down, they jumped on him immediately, taking blood, checking his pulse, temperature…but then, just like Viper and Jamal had warned, things began to grow weird.

“Jack, the oral-spreader, please.”

Donnie blinked and whipped his head in the direction the command had come from, finding Eric motioning to the big lumbering brute who had helped move him from the cart to the table.

Jack, a blond with blue eyes and arms thicker than Raphael’s, nodded and picked up something thin and silver from a nearby cart. It looked almost like some sort of warped clamp, lined with a thick layer of padded plastic and a strap hanging off the back.

 _Oral-spreader_ ; the word alone was enough of a warning.

Donnie slammed his jaw shut and clenched his lips closed, a faint growl rumbling in the back of his throat as they came near.

“Don’t.” He grunted behind closed lips, but they grabbed him anyway, one of them forcing his head back against the table while the other pressed the device up against his mouth.

He shook his head, trying to dislodge the man’s grip, when hands wrapped around his jaw and pressed in, digging into the corners and forcing his teeth to slowly part.

“No!” He tried to shout, but all that came out was a Raph-worthy snarl as the men forced the device between his teeth and strapped it in tight.

Donnie tried to snap his mouth shut the moment they let go, but instead of closing, the thing in between his teeth began to click, and no matter how hard he fought it, it cranked his mouth open inch by inch until he was gaping.

 _“Grah!”_ He grunted in frustration, his hands and legs flexing against the straps as Eric forced his head still.

A light clicked on from above, inching closer as the men re-positioned it. It blinded him and forced his eyes shut tight, but he could still feel everything they were doing to him.

Gloved fingers poked and prodded at his teeth, shifting his tongue aside to press and investigate underneath. They moved far back, sliding down his throat until he gagged, all the while commenting above him about their findings just like the first time.

He tried to squirm, pulling at the restraints until his wrists and bad arm ached.

His cage-mates had warned him; they had told him what was coming and he did not want it, not one bit!

The hands along his forehead tightened as he struggled, pressing him still against the metal, while another pair did exactly what he feared.

“Easy now.” Said Dr. Asher, “You’ll enjoy this part, I promise.”

Cold uncaring hands latched onto his knees, forcing them apart and against something metal where they were strapped in. He snapped his tail up tight against his shell, his thighs quivering from his effort to break free and close them, but no matter how hard he tried, their hands still wandered, still trailed down his body.

 _‘No, no, no!’_ He thought, fighting harder as panic set in, _‘PLEEEEASE NO-O!!’_

They found his slit, and he swore his penis retracted as they reached in after it.

“Just relax, R1-13,” Murmured Eric, his fingers still nudging around Donnie’s mouth, “I can’t see its tonsils.”

He was never really a turtle for swearing, but at that moment he had a few choice words he wished he could scream at them.

 _‘Oh shell no, think of something, anything.’_ He thought desperately, as the gentle fingers coaxed him out of hiding. It felt strange, unwanted one hundred percent, but at the same time he felt himself reacting to the foreign touch, the tingling heat and tightening in his stomach enough to forewarn him of his unwanted but approaching hard-on.

_‘Mikey eating his homemade pizza…My face in Raph’s armpits after training…Master Splinter naked!’_

Well, _that one_ did it. The image that popped into his head was not only vivid, but his mind took the opportunity to add in a few things, such as nipple stars and a stripper pole, something that had him gagging and limp in a heartbeat.

 _‘Oh wow, too much…’_ He thought groggily, _‘WAY too much…’_ But at least it was effective. As humiliating as it was to be presented so shamelessly before strangers, at least now there was a chance they’d give up and maybe…

“I told you he’d be stubb _oh_ rn.” Murmured Ariel, “You’ll need to stemul _eh_ t him while I collect.”

Suddenly cold fingers touched his tail, wrapping around it despite how tight he kept it against his shell, and slowly pried it away, the cold air hitting his puckered entrance as it was exposed. He tried to rip his tail back, but whoever had it kept a firm grip, their fingers gentle and coaxing.

That’s when he felt it, a wet, round but fleshy object, lining up against the tight ring of muscles that protected his anus. His eyes snapped open despite the blaring light, his mind going blank, as the very tip of the object began to press in.

No matter how slow they went, no matter how many times they backed up and gently twisted it in, it _hurt_. It could’ve been because he was still fighting them, still trying to keep the soft fleshy, really life-like thing from entering his body, or it could’ve just been because he was the truest definition of a virgin, either way it stung, and shell he did _NOT_ want it!

 _‘It’s just a toy, it’s just a toy. Ow, SHELL that stings!’_ He thought silently, his whole body tensing as it slid deeper into his body. __‘Just think of Master Splinter naked, Timothy taking April to the prom, hell, think of Mikey eating Ice Cream Kitty!’_  
_ It would’ve worked, if not for two things that happened almost simultaneously. The toy inside him struck something that had him seeing stars, his back arching on its own as warmth spread throughout him, right as something warm and soft slid down tight around his length and sucked hard.

His whole body tingled, his hips rolling as much as the restraints would allow, but this, he _didn’t want_ this.

“See?” Murmured Dr. Asher, “He just needed some persuading. He’s loving it now.”

 ___‘No!’_ __ Donnie thought desperately, _ __‘No I’m not, stop please! I don’t want this; this is ra…rap…An invasion! I don’t want you touching me!’__ _

The toy inside him struck the same spot as before, sparking fits of unwanted pleasure throughout him. It was a natural response to stimulation, this he realized, but it was the fact that it was happening to him, a male, a _ninja_ , a _warrior_ , that was getting at him the worst.

 ___‘Ok, ok.’_ __ He thought, snapping his eyes shut as his hips rolled up into the awful sucking warmth that had encased his cock yet again, _ __‘Displacement. Just, just think of something else, SOMEONE else, create an escape, a…a coping mechanism, like, uh- APRIL!’__ _

An image shifted in the back of his mind, one of beautiful pale freckled skin and soft pink lips, open and panting in pleasure as she straddled his lap.

“Oh, Donnie~” April moaned, her bright blue eyes parting to find his, another gasp escaping as she lifted her hips to slide up and then down along his length. One of her hands slipped up to fondle a perfectly round, beautiful bare breast, the other coming out from behind her, brandishing a thick, deadly, scalpel.

Before his eyes, her kind face twisted into a terrifying smile, her eyes narrowing, _ _“__ Ahr you ready fohr yohr diss _eh_ ction?” She growled, voice warping into that same strange, unidentifiable accent as the woman who studied him.

“AH-H!!” He yelped, his eyes snapping open to rid him of the image.

 ___‘Not that! Not that!’_ __ He thought frantically as his whole body shuddered. He closed his eyes again and thought, _ __‘No April, got it. Just, picture someone, anyone that you know would never hurt you, someone…someone…’__ _

Before he even realized he was doing it, his brain created an image, one he never would’ve thought of on his own:

Green skin pressed tight against his, with gentle three fingered hands that grasped his knees as they thrust into him.

 ___‘Oh, that’s just wrong…’_ __ He thought as the unmistakable image of Leonardo groaned.

“Shhh.” Came a sweet voice, and a new image shifted in, one with an orange band and bright blue eyes that glinted up at him with mischief in their depths, “It’s ok, bro. We got you, just relax~”

Before Donnie’s eyes Mikey leaned in, his warm wet tongue flicking out to run up the length of his cock.

Donnie groaned, his hips rolling up into the feeling, when Mikey swooped down and took his whole length in his mouth, and began to suck.

‘O~ooh shell, this is so wrong.’ Donnie thought, despite the tingles and warmth that coiled within him at his brother’s touches, tugging him quickly to the edge.

Just then, two three fingered hands brushed against his neck, trailing down his shoulders and then plastron to his wrists pinned at his sides.

A flicker of red and gleaming green eyes loomed over him, a smirk stretching across the bigger turtle’s face.

“You’re more of a dork than Leo, relax already. It’s just another experiment, right?”

He leaned in, his lips growing closer. It was so _ __wrong_ , __yet so wonderfully _ __right_ , __and it felt, it felt…

His whole body tensed as Leo thrust in one last time, striking pleasure deep within him that forced him over the edge. He shuddered and thrust up as much as his brother’s weight would allow, pouring his essence deep within his little brother’s mouth.

“See?” Came a whole new voice, one that snapped him from his trance, bringing him back to the horrible reality at hand. “He liked it. I bet he’ll even cooperate now for next time.”

 ___‘Next time!?’_ __ Donnie screamed internally as the sucking device lifted off his member and disappeared, _ __‘No, no, shell no! I did not like it! I do not want it!’__ _

Someone rubbed a soft cloth against his cheek, wiping away tears he hadn’t even realized were there as another tucked his shame back in.

“Ariel, thank you.” Murmured Dr. Asher, and Donnie felt the horribly real feeling toy slipping free. “If you could run this down to the bio _ __engineering_ __ department, _ __not___ the bio department; we had that mix-up last time and it was a disaster. Thank you. Now, Eric, the endoscope.”

Donnie’s eyes snapped open, recognizing the name, and suddenly realized just why his mouth had been pried open to begin with.

Renewing his struggles, he shook his head, but just like before, it was pointless.

Unable to stop them, he felt something large and round slide against his tongue and touch the back of his throat. He gagged but it kept going, the tube much larger then he originally anticipated.

“I’d like a good view of the lungs too, if you don’t mind.” Came Dr. Asher’s voice.

“Won’t that cause suffocation?” Jack replied, but all the head scientist did was chuckle, and the tube forced its way in deeper.

“Only for a moment, he’ll survive.”

He felt the tube within his throat pause, something wiggling off of its side, and suddenly he felt it, a painful searing deep within him that cut off his air and urged him to cough. He jerked, gasping and gagging as whatever it was invaded him deeper, his whole body twitching against the restraints.

Muffled voices reached his ears as he struggled to breathe, and the tube in his throat wiggled again. He gasped as air suddenly filled his lungs, the thing within him retreating back to _ _the tube._ _

“Beautiful picture.” Said Dr. Asher, “Let’s go further.” And so they did; plugging the tube without mercy through his body. His gags, his tears, not even the convulsions beneath his restraints swayed them to stop, and in his tortured state, he found himself drifting back to that coping mechanism all over again:

___“You got this.”_ _ _

___“Hang in there, bro.”_ _ _

___“We’re here for you.”_ _ _

The brothers he loved and longed to see again, whispered and huddled in around him.

They had to find him, they just _ __had_ __ to…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry guys, I've edited this several times and Archive of your own just wont Italicize things for some reason. I hope its not to frustrating to read through. I'll fix it as soon as the site lets me.


	10. Ch. 10

“Sensei, I don’t know what to do. It’s been almost six months, and nothing’s changed.” Leonardo bowed his head and closed his eyes, his hands tightening into fists across his thighs.

“I thought he’d be better by now, but it’s a constant fight. It’s a fight to get him to eat, a fight to get him to sleep. He swears he can still read the numbers on his arm and it’s been a fight just to keep him from mutilating himself again. We have to take turns watching him, and thankfully Karai’s been watching over him from a distance when it’s Mikey’s turn, because otherwise Mikey gets worked up thinking we’re trying to keep him away from Donnie, which opens a whole other can of worms. I just…” 

He looked up at his father, sitting across from him with a cup of tea in hand, his ears pricked and listening even though his gaze was on his cup.

“Maybe you could talk to him, get him to meditate or something? Use some ancient healing technique to settle his mind or…” 

“Leonardo.” Hummed Master Splinter, the gentle way he said his name enough to sink Leo’s heart in his plastron; his father would not be helping as he had hoped. “My attempts to reach your brother are met with growls and a resentful spirit that I no longer recognize.”

The old rat looked up from his cup to meet Leonardo’s gaze. He looked so tired, so strained, and in those dark eyes Leo had grown up with, he saw unmeasurable pain. 

“You and your brothers have made far more progress together with him than I have been able to since he returned home. I will be here for him when he is ready, but until then, what he needs is you and your brothers.”

“But I don’t know what to do.” Leo repeated, his voice cracking, “How can I help him if I don’t even know how to begin to help him?”

Master Splinter nodded and took a sip of his tea. “My son.” He said in that same sad and gentle voice, “Perhaps it is time to take a step back, and look at things from a different perspective. You have been attempting to help _Donatello_ , to reach the brother you remember him to be, instead of trying to help _R1-13_ , the turtle he has become.”

Leonardo stiffened at that horrid name, and if it had been anyone else sitting before him he would’ve snapped at them for daring to call Donnie by it.

“He’s not R1-13.” Said Leo bitterly, “He is Donatello, my brother and teammate, and your-” But his father interrupted, silencing him with a single raise of his four fingered hand.

“In order to help someone, you must first discover what it is that is ailing them. For Donatello, it is this name, and all that has afflicted him while under it. It pains me to say this, but, in order to assist your brother, the way he needs, you must stop attempting to help Donatello, and start working with R1-13.”

Leo hesitated, his eyes narrowing in confusion. He understood but he didn’t, as far as he was concerned Donnie was still Donnie, wasn’t he?

Seeming to have sensed his son’s unease, Master Splinter flattened his ears and took another sip of his tea. “Donatello is intelligent.” He said simply, “Quick to snap perhaps, but understanding and caring. He will obey your orders and listen to you and I, for he trusts his family. Donatello is the turtle who leapt into battle to aid a stranger, who worked day and night to heal you and his brothers. While R1-13, is a completely different turtle.” 

His whiskers twitched, and he took a moment to take another sip from his cup. 

“Paranoid, frightened, secretive, distrustful of all around him.” His father continued after a moment, “R1-13 is a turtle who sees everyday as a day he may need to fight through to survive; he does not even trust you not to take his food away once it is given to him. Yet when you persist, gently force him to sleep, as the three of you have been doing, he puts up a fight, but almost always bends, just as he was trained to do by those people. It may be a way to get him to open up, to talk about what happened, and trust you enough to help R1-13 heal so he may once again become the turtle we all know and love; to become again, our Donatello.”

Leo nodded, chewing his lip a little as he thought over his father’s words. He didn’t want to admit it, but his Sensei was making sense; Donnie was a rational turtle, capable of recognizing the proper choice when given options, such as eating and sleeping, while R1-13…well…he’d just starve to death, throwing aside any sense of logic out of fear of the unknown. Yet, when he wasn’t given an option, but was allowed the courtesy of a choice, such as soup or pizza, he grumbled about it, but he bent, accepting one or the other, as though believing he truly didn’t have any other option.

“Thank you, Sensei.” He murmured, picking up his cup, “It’s my turn to get him to sleep tonight, and to eat if Raph couldn’t get him to. I’ll change tactics, see if I can get him to open up a little. If I know what’s wrong, I can help him.”

It was nice to be able to sit and enjoy a cup of tea with his father for once, the calm serenity of the old oak tree coupled with his Sensei’s presence having the same effects on him as if he’d done a few hours of peaceful meditation. 

By the time they were done, it was nearly Leo’s turn to take Raph’s position beside their poor paranoid brother, still in the same place on the couch, with the same, clean thanks to Mikey’s insistence, blanket he had tugged from the closet that night. 

Leo found them right where he expected them, Raph sitting with his hand out as though waiting for something, and Donnie curled up on the couch, glowering at the floor.

“Give it.” Snapped Raphael as Leo drew closer, “Both of them.”

Donnie stiffened but didn’t move, his gaze flicking from Raph, back to the floor.

“If you don’t,” Continued Raph, his voice gentle, yet firm, “Then I’ll take them from you, in three, two…”

Finally, the blanket shifted, Donatello’s hand appearing out from under it with what appeared to be a steak knife and a shuriken in his fist. 

“Thanks, bro.” Said Raph gently, glancing up to meet Leo’s gaze as he took them from their brother’s hand, “Hey, Leo’s ‘gonna take over now. Why don’t you work on your soup? There’s noodles in it this time.”

Donnie grunted but didn’t move, his gaze back on the floor.

Leonardo sighed and slipped down onto the couch beside him, reaching across to take the container of soup that Raph was hoping Donnie would accept.

Their fingers brushed as Leonardo took it, their eyes meeting for the briefest of moments. A small smile twitched onto Raphael’s face, and Leo returned it, before they both looked away; they had to act _normal_ now…

Once Raph was gone, it was just like every night. Donnie sitting in silence, staring at nothing, flinching from Leo’s touches, no matter how small or light, and refusing to eat, to talk, to sleep, to move…

Leo tried a few times to get Donnie to eat like always, by asking his brother, begging and pleading gently, but Donnie was still being difficult, taking maybe a sip here and there, before the taller turtle turned away and huddled into himself on the cushions. 

As much as Leo hated to admit it, hated to even contemplate trying, perhaps his Sensei was right…

Swallowing hard, Leo took a deep breath and tried one last time.

“Donnie, please.” He murmured, holding the container of soup out, “You know you have to eat.” But sure enough, Donnie shook his head, refusing it once again. 

As much as was going to hate it, it was time for tough love…

He straightened up, squared his shoulders and narrowed his eyes. “I’m not going to watch you starve yourself.” Said Leo, forcing out just enough of a growl to catch Donnie’s attention and keep it, “So, you can either eat this soup.” He held it out once more, “Or the pizza in the kitchen. Now pick one, and eat it.”

As expected, Donnie’s dark gaze hardened, glaring at Leo from the corner of his eye with a Raph-worthy challenge. “Or _what?_ ” He growled back, “You’ll _make_ me?”

“Yes.” Snapped Leo, harsher than he had intended, “I’ll even have Raph hold you down. Shell, I’ll have Sensei do it if it means you get enough food in you to keep you from wasting away. You’re not an idiot, but right now you’re sure as shell acting like one. Now stop being such a baby and just eat something before you force me to _make_ you.”

Fear. That’s what flickered in his little brother’s eyes as Leo held the soup out, that’s what filled his face as Leo watched him, and that’s what seeped into Leonardo’s heart as Donnie pulled away. 

_‘Crap…’_ He thought, kicking himself for having pushed so hard, his mouth opening to take it all back, to hurriedly apologize and reassure his brother that he would never do anything against his will, when a shaky hand rose from under Donnie’s blanket, and reached out to grasp the tub of soup.

To Leo’s relief, Donnie took it and pulled it into his plastron, giving Leo heartbreaking glances as though he truly believed Leonardo would actually follow through with his threat, and then slowly took a good long sip of his soup.

Sighing, Leo closed his eyes and thunked his head against the back of the couch. He pinched his brow, feeling absolutely disgusted with himself, and murmured, “This, this isn’t ‘gonna keep happening like this, Donnie. I’m not going to keep fighting you and threatening you just to get you to eat. I…” He trailed off, plopping his hand down to sit back up and look at his brother, still huddled around his soup. “I’m going to help you, Donnie. But to do that you need to start eating, you need to start sleeping, and you need to start opening up to us.”

His brother took another mouthful of soup and swallowed, a reassuring sight as far as Leo was concerned, when Donnie opened his mouth and asked quietly, “And if I don’t?”

Leo sighed again, hanging his head as he leaned down against his knees. _‘So this is how it’s going to be…’_

“You know the answer to that, Donatello.” He murmured, “I’ll make you eat, I’ll force you to sleep, and if you don’t open up soon, then, well, Rockwell still has your files and everything from that place, so, so I’ll just-”

He’d never seen Donnie move so quickly before outside of a fight. One moment his brother was sipping his soup, the next he was whipping around and latched onto Leo’s wrist like his life depended on it.

“Don’t!” Donnie begged, “Please, _just don’t_ , leave it alone, Leo.”

Slightly startled, Leo searched his face, finding fear and panic staring back at him, but stood his ground. “Why?” He countered, “You won’t talk to us about anything. In order for us to help you we need to know what’s wrong.”

Donnie seemed to flinch, but his grip never slacked. “You don’t need to know.” He said quickly, looking anywhere but at him, “It’s nothing any of you need to know, I mean…” He pulled away slightly, suddenly unsure. The hand gripping Leo’s began to tremble, right as hesitation and traces of panic began to flicker across Donatello’s face. “Y-you shouldn’t have to, none of you, it’s not…it’s not…”

Leo reached out and covered the shaking hand with his own. Donnie flinched against his touch just like always, but for the very first time, he didn’t yank it away.

“Why?” Whispered Leo, this time gentle, “Tell me why I shouldn’t? Why I shouldn’t try to find out what they did, so we can help you?” 

Again Donnie flinched, refusing to look up, yet still seemed determined to hold his ground. It was reassuring, a rare flicker of Donatello still in there under the mess those monsters had turned him into. 

“I…” Donnie began, shooting Leo a nervous glance, before looked down at his hand, still wrapped around and under Leo’s, and hesitated, “I, just, it’s not, I mean it was because of them, but I…” He pulled away, wide eyed but not really seeing as he gripped his soup and focused on the floor again. “There’s things in there, th-things that happened that I just, you…none of you need to know about.” 

“Like,” Leo prompted slowly, “What?”

Donatello seemed to curl into himself, pulling his soup in closer until it, and his entire body, seemed to vanish beneath the blanket. 

“I’d rather hear it from you, Donnie.” said Leo softly, “Much more than having to read it in some file. No matter what, I’m going to find out, because we _are_ going to help you through this.”

His brother cringed and closed his eyes, withdrawing into himself even more. “I’m sorry.” He whispered, “Look. I-if I tell you, will you promise not to get upset?”

Leo nodded, “Yeah, Donnie, of course.” And though Donatello wasn’t looking at him or meeting Leo’s eye, his brother nodded as well, took a deep breath, and then, after months of silence, finally began to talk; 

“It wasn’t a-anything I expected, it just, just _happened_ , first off. I-I just wanted comfort while, while I was in there. I missed you all, an-and during certain times, I needed a way to cope. So, I, accidentally created a coping mechanism that, that I’m not proud of, but…but you weren’t there, and I needed you, so, so, I _imagined_ you there. The three of you were there for me during all of it, I…I just had to close my eyes and I’d find you beside me. Sometimes it would be when I was lonely, other times when I was frightened and going through one of their...their…” He swallowed hard and after a moment forced out the word he’d been struggling to say, “Experiments. But then, _other_ times when I thought they weren’t looking, you’d be there for me in, uh, other ways, ways that you shouldn’t have been, but there the three of you were...”

Donnie trailed off and seemed to sink even further into the cushions, so much so that Leo was shocked he hadn’t withdrawn into his shell.

“A-and they…they…” Donatello swallowed hard, the entire blanket shivering as he took a deep breath, “Well, they’re always watching no matter what I did, so I know it’s in there, a-and I don’t want you to find it without first knowing what it is, because otherwise it’ll be disturbing and confusing and, and…” 

He trailed off again, and Leo swore he heard a small whimper coming from the taller turtle’s throat.

“It was just to cope, I _swear_.” He whispered, his voice strained, “Just a way to get through every day, and for some reason it just worked, ok? Despite the fact that I was…that we were…In…In-intimate…in those moments.”

Leo blinked, sure that he had misheard, but as he watched, his brother seemed to deflate and tense, as though waiting for a blow, and he knew he hadn’t. 

Donatello, his brother, was just like them after all. It was amazing, slightly humorous since they were so worried about how he would react if he had found out, only to discover that he was fretting over the same thing.

He smiled encouragingly, despite the fact that Donnie couldn’t see it, and murmured, “And here I thought I was about to hear something awful.” 

Sighing in relief, Leo thunked back against the cushions, a light hearted chuckle slipping out, “I was worried I wouldn’t be able to help you, but this, _hah_ , I can help with this no problem.”

Donnie cracked an eye, watching him almost cautiously, curious and yet confused, but Leo kept right on talking, grateful for once just to be able to do so, and have his little brother listen.

“When we lost you, we searched for days trying to find those men, track their vehicle, get a trace of them, _anything_. Then it became weeks, then months. Nothing, not a trace, not even a word about who those guys could’ve been. I began sneaking out, Karai would always follow so I wasn’t really alone, but I wasn’t exactly making the best choices. I felt like it was my fault that you were captured, like we weren’t trying hard enough to find you or something…”

“Leo…” Donnie murmured, but Leonardo kept going.

“I was so wrapped up in my own feelings of failure and self-loathing, that I neglected the team, and worse, I neglected the family, so much so that I was oblivious to what was happening around me. Raph was becoming angry, going out with Casey about as often as I was with Karai. We were fighting nonstop, every day, and every time I came back from a search, to the point that Karai and Sensei had to separate us on more than one occasion. Then Mikey, he was a _mess_ , and I never even saw it. It took Raph pointing it out for me to even see what was happening. Mikey smiled like nothing was wrong every day, but something was wrong. He was convinced, like me, that everything that happened was because of him. He was withdrawing into himself, becoming obsessed with finding you to the point that he body slammed the Pizzeria’s new delivery-boy and began interrogating him, just because he _looked suspicious_. April took care of that one, but…”

Leo sighed and shook his head, remembering just how upset, obsessed, and desperate Mikey had become, his actions becoming frantic, his personality forced… Donnie didn’t need to know the details just yet…

Clearing his throat, he smiled gently and said, “We were falling apart, growing further and further away from one another. It was like we weren’t a family anymore. The worst part was I didn’t even care; I just wanted to fix what I thought I’d done, even if it meant jeopardizing the team. It was getting bad, but I remember when that all changed…”

_“I thought we had found him...” Mumbled Leo for the umpteenth time as he stormed towards his room, “Stupid snapping-turtle.”_

_He slammed open his door, the tacks in the old ‘Space Heroes’ poster he’d hung there ages ago giving way to send it fluttering to the ground._

_“How can you even mistake a snapping-turtle for one of us? She was huge! Easily twice my size, I mean come on, I said he was tall, not enormous.” He grumbled to himself and kicked his door shut, stomping past the poster without even an attempt to move it from the floor._

_He and Karai had failed yet another mission to bring him back, their only lead in months turning into one great big giant flop…_

_Plopping down atop his bed, Leonardo hung his head. What was he going to tell Sensei? How was he going to face his brothers and explain that he had failed them yet again? He was no closer to locating Donatello than he was a few months ago, and everyone knew it…_

_He’d just have to work harder that was all, find a new angle. Huffing, Leo nodded to himself and began to tug off his elbow pads. “Hun.” He murmured, turning to his belt once they were off, “We haven’t tried cornering him. Maybe he’ll know…”_

_Leo had just set aside his belt and reached down for his knee pads, when a loud crack filled the room as his door was kicked open._

_“Where the heck have you been?!” Roared a familiar voice, “You were gone for hours!”_

_He’d been expecting this fight, but he’d been hoping to get a few hours of sleep in first._

_Leaping to his feet, Leo turned and faced his hot-headed brother, ready for the onslaught of either words or fists, whatever Raphael decided to throw at him today._

_“So what?!” Snapped Leo, “I’m the leader, and if I choose to go out then that’s my business, not yours, now back off!”_

_“No!” Raph snarled, his hands balling into fists, “I won’t back off. You’re being stupid! Suicidal! Going out alone right now is asking for trouble!”_

_“I’m not alone, I have Karai. Unlike you, we were following leads, tracking them down and searching for Donatello,” Yelled Leo, “While you sit down here and sulk or go topside to beat up Purple Dragons with Casey. Yeah, real helpful. So next time, before you try and tell me what’s smart, take your own damn advice!”_

_“Oh yeah, Karai,” Snorted Raph, unenthused, “The girl Shredder is hunting down. Let’s just go topside and strap a bow to her and your fricking head and hand the two of you over to him! You’re acting crazy, Leo, and like shell if I’m ‘gonna let you keep doing this! You’re pulling away from us; we’re supposed to be a team, damnit! You know, a group that works together?!”_

_“Yeah, some team.” Leo snarled, “We couldn’t even keep Donnie safe! And worst of all, you don’t even care! You don’t want us to find him, you just want us to all pout in the corner and throw tantrums like a great big baby!”_

_Raphael growled, his head lowering and fists clenching, but Leo ignored the signs of danger, his anger getting the better of him._

_“You don’t care about any of us!” Spat Leo, “I bet if Mikey and I disappeared tomorrow, you’d be happy! You'd probbaly celebrate!”_

_In seconds Raphael lunged, a part of Leo grateful for the chance to release his rage, to hit, to punch, to let all his pain and frustration out. His arm came up, ready to crack him across the jaw, but Raphael was quick, slamming into his plastron with enough force to lift Leo off the ground._

_Leo smashed into the floor, stars popping before his eyes as he twisted to reverse the hold, but again Raph was too fast, and before Leo knew it his legs were clamped together by his brother’s thighs and his arms had been snapped tight against his sides._

_Raphael loomed above him, teeth bared with a wild look in his eye. “Stop, being, stupid!” He growled through clenched teeth, “Because I’m not going to lose you and Mikey too.”_

_Fully expecting pain, Leo braced himself for the blow, when Raph lowered his head and dove at him; only, there was no pain, simply shock._

_Lips crushed against Leo’s in a strong but passionate embrace, the move itself enough to stun Leonardo into submission. He didn’t move, he didn’t dare, the heat in his cheeks rising as he felt a tongue slip out and prod tentatively at his lips. Yet, Leo didn’t pull away, didn’t shake him off, didn’t try to fight. He went limp, his lips parting, and welcomed the strange tongue into his mouth._

“He _what?_ ” Leo heard Donnie ask in surprise, and Leo nodded.

“He kissed me.” He repeated, “Flattened me right to the floor, and I didn’t stop him. Out of everyone in our family, I never would’ve thought it would be _Raph_ to bring us back together.”

Rolling his head on the cushion, Leo found his brother and smiled, but Donnie, he didn’t return it, if anything, he pulled away, anger and suspicion clouding his gaze.

“You’re mocking me.” Donnie growled at him. “Making it up…”

Unable to help it, Leo snorted, “I’m what?” He repeated, “Why the shell would I do that?”

“Compliance.” Donnie snapped, “You just want me to be manageable.” 

Again Leo laughed, he just couldn’t help it. “Oh, come _on,_ ” He chuckled, “And what? You think Raph and Mikey would just go along with it if I was making it up?”

Donnie seemed to hesitate at that, obviously mulling over his question. He glanced over his shoulder towards their bedrooms, and murmured, “But, but you never...”

“Said anything?” Finished Leo, “Did anything, or acted out of the norm in front of you?” When Donnie looked back, hesitant but guarded, Leo chuckled again and replied. “Because we didn’t know how you’d react. We thought it might make you worse, make you pull away and possibly fear us.”

“You haven’t been fighting…” Whispered Donnie in slow realization, giving the bedrooms one more glance before he turned back and nestled down into the cushions, his chocolate gaze resting warily up on Leo. “Raph doesn’t question you like he used to…”

Leo nodded. “Yeah. Turns out Raph’s been angry this whole time because of pent up feelings, sexual frustration, and a desire to be close when he didn’t think he was allowed to be. It’s a bond for us, Donnie, something that you do _not_ have to be a part of unless _you_ want to.”

Donnie was silent for a good long moment, his hard to read gaze locked on Leo as though expecting someone to pop up and yell _‘got ’ya!’_ from behind him. Finally, he shifted uneasily and whispered, “You, you mean I get a choice?”

Leonardo nodded. “Of course.” He promised, “We will more than gladly be whatever you want us to be, Donatello, but only by your choice, not by ours. The only thing I will ever force you to do is eat, sleep, and stay clean; you know, the common sense stuff you’ve been ignoring?”

Donnie looked away, and though Leo couldn’t see his face, he knew his brother felt ashamed. 

“Hey.” He murmured, reaching out to nudge the broken genius, “Why don’t you try to sleep, huh? It’s getting late, and if you want, I can take whatever’s bothering you in your room out so you can finally rest on something comfortable. What do you think?”

Like always, Donnie shook his head ‘no’, only this time, he turned back to him. “The…the, uh, nightmares aren’t so bad when I’m with you guys.”

“Ok.” Said Leo. Encouraged by the admission, he pulled himself upright and turned to face his brother. “Then we’ll just stay with you, and if your room still bothers you then you can stay in one of our rooms with us. It’ll just be to sleep, I promise.”

Donnie shook his head again, his mouth opening, but no words came out. He took a deep breath and swallowed, a shudder running through him, and tried again. “I…I don’t want to, Leo.”

“Why?” Leo challenged, and he watched as another shudder ran through his brother.

“It.” Began Donnie, his voice shaking, “It’s a _cage_ , Leo. I fought to get out of mine every day while I was there. Here, it’s wide and open, it’s safe and not closed in. I just want to stay out here…”

Now that was a reason Leo could understand as well as accept. He nodded, about to reach out his arm and offer to let Donnie lean against him if he wanted, when Donatello cleared his throat and slowly uncurled from under his blanket.

“Can I, I mean… I’ve gotten so used to sleeping against you at night, is it still ok if I-?”

Without waiting for him to finish, Leo opened his arms and gestured for him to come closer. “Come here, bro.” He murmured, “Of course you can.”

The corners of Donnie’s mouth twitched, and a smile, a small but real smile graced his face for the first time in what felt like forever. He leaned in without a fuss, and Leo more than happily wrapped his arms around him.

Things weren’t perfect, not even close, but it was a start.


	11. Ch. 11

He’d escaped three times so far…

The first time, he’d been able to subdue the three scientists sent to drag him from his cage by using their own sedation against them. He’d gotten as far as studying the main door’s electronic code system when the doors slid open and six men in full body Kevlar slammed him to the ground. He’d hallucinated really good that day, seeing his brothers, believing they were dragging him to safety, only to wake up hours later back in his cage. Viper and Jamal thought it was great...

The second time he escaped, he’d used the zap-stick to corral the scientists into his cage and lock them in it. From there he’d been able to quickly hack the computer system that controlled the locks and popped the door open, giving him a taste of sweet, sweet freedom. He’d gotten as far as the other door before the room peppered him with darts, once again throwing him into one hell of a hallucination where he watched his brothers get gunned down before his eyes. He still had nightmares… 

His third escape was his greatest yet. Mathis had returned, vowing to get even with the turtle who had almost stopped his heart, only to end up with a broken jaw moments later, after refusing to listen to Ariel when she warned him about Donatello’s frequent escapes. Eric was zapped into unconsciousness, and Ariel, having grown used to his tactics, put her hands up and walked freely into the cage. 

He calculated about five to ten minutes before the men in Kevlar would appear to stop him, but that was plenty of time. All he needed was to know was what lay beyond, pushing farther and farther to better map out the building, and eventually free himself and his friends.

Using two metal sheets as a shield, he’d been able to push past the tunnel between the holding room and the lab; the one called ‘Jack’ was easy to outsmart, and Dr. Asher, well, he either hadn’t noticed, or didn’t care, the headphones in his ears apparently enough to block out noise as Donatello picked the lock to the lab and slipped out into the hall. From there, things became…complicated. 

The hallway wasn’t always a hall. 

Sometimes the hall would lead to a dead end, sometimes the hall would appear to lead outside only to suddenly warp into a cage that he’d have to struggle to get out of, and then, the one that finally got him, the hallway walls would close and try to box him in. He thought he’d been able to slip out and escape it, only to find himself in a strange door-less hall that led him in circles, over and over, until darts shot out from the floor and stabbed him twice; one in the shoulder, the other in the thigh. He’d seen his brothers then, all three of them beckoning him to follow, to escape with them, only this time, he’d known better… he attacked them.

Mikey was punched square in the jaw, Raphael was kicked hard in the plastron, while he turned on Leo to slam him in the throat. They weren’t his brothers…they never were; they were just the scientists out to take him back to his cage. 

During the fight, someone had managed to stick him with a needle, and after that, he remembered nothing. He woke up the next morning back in his cage, his ass and penis sore, and knew they had touched him again, but thankfully Viper and Jamal had been there to distract him from that fact with high praise and curious questions of what lay beyond the lab.

His next escape he’d need to be more careful, pay closer attention to the hallway, try to open doors next time or simply wait for the men in Kevlar to see which direction they’d come from. If he could just figure out how the hall worked, then he’d be able to release his friends. Surely the men would hesitate to take on all three of them at once? It was a plan, a good one considering he was locked up in a cage again; all he had to do now was wait for another opportunity to escape. Whenever that would come…He wasn’t even sure how many days had passed anymore. They’d taken the only clock away, and the people who came and went never did so at a set time. He’d need to figure it out, need to study them closer. Today however, would not be a day for that, for today, was “Bath day”…

Donatello spluttered as the icy water hit him, the force from it strong enough to send him crashing into the back wall.

“Ya’ll suck!” He heard Jamal snarl, “W-why not warm w-water for once in your d-damn lives!?”

Donnie turned his carapace to the spray, his teeth beginning to chatter as the frigid cold slammed into him, slowly moving up and down his body as they _‘cleaned’_ him.

Wave after wave hit him, needle sharp and freezing with every pass. The soap came next, a foaming froth that lined the walls and coated him and the floor in a thick layer of bubbly white that stung at open cuts.

He gagged as the thick fluff got in his nose, a foul smelling and even worse tasting film that clogged his senses and threatened to choke him. 

“H-hang in th-there, kid!” Hissed Viper from his left, his voice quivering from shivers, “It’ss almossst o-over, jussst d-don’t sswallow the s-sstuff!”

Lifting his head as high as he could, Donnie coughed out as much of the froth as he could and took a deep breath, right as the foam changed, shifting from soap back to the icy blast that forced him up against the wall. 

All he could do was close his eyes and hunker against the concrete as it hit him, his whole body shivering, teeth chattering, he was fairly certain he’d lost feeling in his fingers and toes, and wished for it to stop, when the spray shifted, and sent him stumbling again.

He grunted as he smacked into the corner of his cage, the hose blasting him again and again.

“A-almost, o-over.” Chattered a voice, so close it was in his ear; it was Jamal. He must’ve been forced up against the corner of the dog mutants cage, his cage-mate no doubt either forced into his corner just like Donatello had been, or found it just to huddle into, in a vain attempt to keep warm.

Huddling into the corner, Donnie waited, focusing his energy inward to try and redirect the feeling of cold and numbness, when something warm began to blast against him. It wasn’t water, but air, a strange combination of heat and cold that swirled around him from every angle.

“F-fuckers!” Snarled Jamal, his teeth chattering so loud Donnie could hear them loud and clear, “B-bet you all g-get warm s-showers!” 

“And warm b-beds.” Added Donatello, “A-and r-real food.”

“S-sssteak a-and potatoess.” He heard Viper call, “O-or Venissson, with g-green beanss and ssweet potatoess.”

“P-pizza g-gyoza, with a w-whole f-fresh pizza j-just for m-me, o-one I w-wouldn’t have to, to share w-with m-my brothers.” Chattered Donnie, “A-and a giant c-cup of coffee.” 

“Mmm.” Hummed Jamal, “My girl Tanisha’s home m-made sweet p-potato pie. You wanna t-talk about s-something that w-warms the s-soul, m-makes you feel l-like home. I-it’s her cooking. God I wanna g-go home.”

Donnie clenched his closed eye lids tighter, an image of his brothers surrounding him, huddling in, helping keep him warm popping to mind. “I w-want my brothers.” He whispered, “L-leonardo, Michelangelo, a-and Raphael.”

Jamal was silent for a moment, his teeth chattering, when he cleared his throat and asked quietly. “T-those are your brothers?” 

Donny nodded, thinking nothing of it, when Jamal opened his muzzle again and murmured, “Oh, sorry, I t-thought they were your lovers.”

His eyes snapped open, an icy wash of pure panic hitting him hard enough to make his stomach twist. “Wha?” He squeaked, his eyes growing huge, “N-no, I mean, t-they, t-they’re…”

Jamal however just smiled, his sopping wet fur sagging down and making him look like a ragged carpet. “C-chill, man.” He murmured, “It’s a-alright, I get it. At l-least, I t-think I do.”

“No.” Said Donnie again, his cheeks burning in humiliation. Unable to meet the mutant-poodle’s eye, he huddled closer into himself, looking anywhere but at the brand in his arm, and stammered, “It’s n-not, I mean…”

“Hey.” Grunted Jamal, “Come on now, t-turtle-boy, chill. You do what you have t-to to get through it w-when those freaks start p-putting their hands all o-over ‘ya. And d-don’t say you don’t, because that’s s-shit and you k-know it. W-worst thing y-you can do is hide w-what happens, p-pretend like it doesn’t a-affect you. Its eats you up when y-you do that. H-heck, I accidentally thought of my _gramps_ o-one time. You w-wanna talk about a w-whoops? M-made those bastards w-work for it that day. Bet they work for it every time they go near ‘ya, huh?”

Donnie snickered, remembering the scarring image of his father on a stripper pole with nipple stars that his brain had concocted. 

“So, it’s like a cooping mechanism, right?” 

Donatello froze, the new voice cutting into his thoughts like a knife through warm butter. It was so close, right next to him almost, and if he hadn’t been so cold he would’ve leapt to his feet, hands into fists in preparation to defend himself. Instead, he turned his head, fighting through shivers and chattering teeth, to find a white coated scientist, just as he feared, in the cage with him only a few feet away.

“Get away from me.” He growled as threateningly as he could muster, knowing full well that his reflexes and reaction time would be slowed if the man lunged for him.

It was odd actually. It was a newer scientist; one he’d never seen before, probably Mathis’s replacement since his jaw was broken. He was younger, way younger, looking to be maybe fifteen or sixteen at most, his hair cut short, blond in color, with bright green eyes full of curiosity. He didn’t seem threatening, but then again, he was one of _them_ …

“Ballsy f-fucker.” Growled Jamal, “Y-you wanna die, k-kid?”

The young man shrugged, looking anything but intimidated. “Never been this close to a mutant before.” He said, “Besides, I had to come in here to drop off your toy and you’re too cold to move. Plus, I enjoy breaking protocol.” He smiled at that, and said happily, “I’m Dr. Williams, you must be R1-13.” 

Slowly Donnie peered around him towards the entrance to the cage. He didn’t have to look far, for sitting just a few feet away on the concrete sat a thick, oversized stuffed turtle plush-doll with a shell as big as his.

“It’s a mind-game thing.” Murmured Jamal, “Viper actually s-swallowed his. I f-fricking pissed on m-mine and made them c-clean it up. Ha!”

The man beside Donnie chuckled, smiling away like nothing was wrong. “It’s all stupid mind-games, you’re right. I don’t see a point in them. But I have always wondered how you guys make it through everything.”

“You m-must be suicidal.” Growled Donatello, and just like before, Dr. Williams simply shrugged.

“Maybe.” He murmured, “Staying too long in this place will do that to anyone.”

Jamal let out a growl, a deep one that sent goosebumps down even Donatello’s spine. “At least you have a c-choice, you, s-snot nosed little p-punk.”

Dr. Williams snorted and shook his head, looking up at the two of them with a tired smile. “That’s what _you_ think.” He murmured.

Donnie narrowed his eyes at those words, studying the young man curiously, when another voice rang out, one that numbed Donatello even more and sent chills up his spine.

“Williams.” Snapped Ariel, “What ahr you doink? If you end up dead on my watch I swear boy, I’ll brrink you back just to kill you ag _eh_ n. Now get out of dere!”

The young man frowned but didn’t turn, his eyes rolling before fixing back on Donatello. “Ain’t she just a ball full of wonderful? No wonder you’re causing so much hell in here.”

He sighed and straightened up, stuffing his hands in his pockets as he looked between Donatello, Jamal and then Viper. “If they didn’t think you’d try and kill yourself with it, I’d get you an actual bed or at least a blanket, but they’ll be dropping some straw in for you in a few minutes so at least you’ll be able to warm up quicker. Plus, they warm the water they put out for you, so that’ll help.”

Jamal grunted, a slight growl rising in his throat again. “Don’t trust ’em, Donatello. He’s just trying to get you to trust him, open up and talk. They do that to get inside your head, put you through situations to see how you’ll react.”

“Oh, come now.” Said Dr. Williams, looking genuinely offended, “I was honestly curious, you’ll never see head games from me.”

“Williams!” Snarled Ariel, “Fohr once in yohr life will you just listen to me?!”

Donatello eyed him again, cautious yet still curious. The young man _looked_ honest enough, but after everything, he just couldn’t muster up the courage to believe or trust the newcomer. 

“Dat is _it_!” Donnie heard Ariel growl, “Williams, _out_ , or I’m turrneen dis on wid you inside it!”

For the first time since Donatello had faced the young man, he saw a flicker of alarm spark in his green gaze. “She however, loves protocol.” Murmured Williams, clearing his throat. He took a step away and fixed his coat, “Sorry, I can’t say what’s next will be too pleasant.” 

He turned and left, walking up to the door with his head held high where that vile woman stood waiting for him.

“I don’t know what your issue is.” Donnie heard him murmur, “Seriously, am I not allowed to settle simple curiosity?” 

“Just get out of dere” She hissed at him, “Befohr you end up mauled and I end up wid pehp _ah_ -wohrk.”

“Oh, come on.” He huffed, walking through the door just as she had ordered, “Just because they _look_ like that doesn’t mean they’re not still people, treat them with a little respect and…”

“No!” She spat, and the door slid shut, a resounding click ringing around Donatello’s cage as it locked. “Stop dat. Dey ahr nuhteen, not special, not impohrtant.”

Donnie gritted his teeth, his eyes narrowing into a glare. 

“Dey will never be anyteen, and da fastah you get dat tru yohr head da easier dings will become fohr you. Now repeat, _dey ahr nuhteen._ ”

“You’re the one who’s nothing!” Spat Donatello before he could stop himself, his temper rising.

The red headed woman turned, eyeing him with disdain. “Oh?” She mocked, “Do tell me, what does da t _uh_ rtle have dat makes him someteen, hmm? What gr _eh_ t deed have you done to contrribute to da w _oh_ rld?”

Unable to help it, Donatello laughed. “Which one!?” He snapped right back at her. Forcing his numbed legs to move he grabbed the wall and dragged himself upright.

“Here, I’ll list some of them off; How about when my brothers and I stopped the Kraang from poisoning the city’s water supply? Or when my brothers and I stopped the Kraang from invading, by taking down the Techno-drome? Or how about when we stopped all those earthquakes by sending the Kraang worms back to Dimension X? You know, I could keep going…” He narrowed his eyes and growled, “But I don’t think your simple mind would be able to comprehend the complexity of the missions my brothers and I have been sent into, so I’ll spare you the details.”

She watched him, her head tilting with a half amused half exasperated look. “And _dat_ , Williams.” She sighed, turning to the young man, now watching Donatello with a curious stare, “Is why you don’t enc _oh_ rage dem. We ahr tryink to brehk dem, as ordered, not rile dem up. Esp _eh_ cially not da one dat’s given us da most headache! Ahr you even…”

“Break me? Ha!” Laughed Donatello, his courage only rising and giving strength to his weakened limbs, “Look it up, ‘Google’ is our worst enemy. We stay in the shadows but they always video record something, somewhere. Like during the Triceraton invasion, there’s no way we weren’t filmed fighting _that_ one.” He snorted and then snapped, “You can do whatever you want to me, say whatever you want to me, but I know who I _am_ , and more importantly, I know what _you_ are. That alone, is why you’ll never be able to break me.”

He heard Jamal growl from behind him, but it carried no anger, only pride. “I’m a married man with a son, Master’s Degree in Business, my own home, with three companies under me. My family is set for life. Screw you and your, _‘nothing’_ , bullshit.”

“Purple heart.” Hissed Viper, “And a Bronzze Ssstar, after I dragged two men, on a broken leg, through desssert and ssand, sshooting our enemiesss one by one, until we were all ssafe. Up yoursss, you arrogant bitch!”

Donnie couldn’t help but smirk as his cage-mates finally stood their ground, remembering who they were and what they had accomplished. This must’ve been how Leo always felt after one of his speeches, rallying them up for a fight or simply to regain their spirit and stamina after a failed mission. 

There was nothing she could do now, nothing she could try. He had everything calculated, perfectly planned. All he needed to do now was break free again, get his friends loose, and together, there was no way they’d be able to stop them; they’d be free, it was only a matter of time.

Ariel cleared her throat, standing up straighter with a bored look. “Do _hz_ ahr thinks you _wehr_.” She sighed, “Apahrt frrom ouhr st _oh_ ry tellah, heehr.”

She looked up and fixed Donatello with her bright blue eyes, so alike to April’s, and said softly. “An animal inside a cage, is what you ahr now. So, R1-13, R1-09, and C1-04, do tell me. Who ahr you, if you ahr not an animal, inside a cage?” 

Donnie narrowed his eyes again, a sense of pride rising up within him. “I’m Donate-” His words were lost with a yell as sudden pain shot through him, snapping up his spine and through every nerve with a tingling intensity that ripped at every inch of him. He felt himself fall, but couldn’t stop, his arms and legs twitching on their own as he cracked hard against the concrete.

Just as quickly as it came, it stopped, leaving him gasping along the floor as he struggled to understand what had happened.

“I’m s _oh_ ry. What was dat?” He heard Ariel ask, so calm, so sweet... 

Still breathing hard, he leaned up, finding her watching him with hard to read eyes. “Wha-?” He began, when she interrupted.

“I asked you a qu _eh_ stion.” She snapped, “Who ahr you? Ohr if dat is too difficult fohr you to answer, den tell me, what is yohr name?”

Donnie felt a growl in his throat, one that Raphael would’ve been proud of. “My name is Donat-” He began, but just like before, pain shot through him.

This time, despite the jaw clenching agony, he was able to register that the source of the pain was coming from the floor, electric shock no doubt, but stronger than the tasers.

Finally, it stopped, his heart hammering so hard against his plastron he was sure it would break through it.

“What of you?” Asked Ariel, and when he found the strength to force his arms in close and prop himself up, he found her pacing from Viper’s cage to Jamal’s. “Hmm? R1-09? Ahr you anyteen _uh_ dah dan an animal in a cage? Ohr what about you, C1-04? Do you have a name _uh_ dah dan da one we gave you?”

She stopped outside of Donnie’s cage, the April-clone watching him almost challengingly, “Well, R1-13? What is yohr name?”

_‘How the Shell did they electrocute the floors?’_

He knew what she was doing; it was a mind-game, an attempt to break them all over again. No way he was going to spill out his name or that accursed number she was trying to insist was his title. He just needed to know how the floors were electrified now, find it, break it, and get out. Then he could…

His jaw clenched as the ground sparked again, zapping him once, then twice, again and again until he was writhing along the ground. It seemed endless, driving agonizing pain into every tortured nerve and joint until it stopped.

He gasped in air, painting along the ground, his heart out of rhythm; one more hit and it was sure to stop. It took him a second to realize that his vision was blurred, taking its time to come back, but when it did, he found himself facing Jamal’s cage, and what he saw froze him to the spot.

Jamal was laying on the ground, his eyes glazed, mouth open as he panted and twitched. Every time Donatello was zapped, so were his friends.

“Yohr name.” Repeated Ariel, “Come now, it’s r _eh_ lly not dat hahrd; dey’re branded into yohr ahrms. Now, what is yohr name?!” And this time, Donnie swallowed.

He closed his eyes and gritted his teeth, loathing and hatred for what he was about to do coiling up inside him and begging him not to. 

“Last time.” She hissed, “Yohr name, R1-13. What is yohr name?”

“R1-13…” He whispered. “My name, is R1-13.”

“What was dat?” She asked again, “Louder please, I didn’t quite catch dat.”

His fists clenched almost as tight as his jaw. “R1-13!” He hissed through his teeth, each fall of that dreaded name from his lips hurting about as much as the shock from the floor, “You’re not deaf! My damn name is R1-13!” he choked, curling into himself on the floor.

“You have been allowed too many fr _ee_ doms.” He heard Ariel say, “You need to be br _oh_ ken, tuhrned into da animal you ahr. Fr _oh_ m dis day on, you ahr R1-13, R1-09, and C1-04. Any mention of yohr past names will lead to a corr _eh_ ction, to help you remembah just who and what you r _eh_ lly ahr. If you have any doubts, begin to dink you ahr someteen _uh_ dah dan a lab exp _eh_ riment, take a look at yohr ahrms, and find da names we have given you.”

He heard her heels click as she walked closer to his cage, every step like a nail being driven through him. He did his best not to cringe away, a growl rising from him instead as he waited for more pain, but pain didn’t come, at least, not in the way he expected.

“You.” He heard her say, so close she had to be only feet from him, “Ahr n _uh_ teen. Now, play wid yohr toy, and be done wid deese foolish attempts to stand up, escape, and be someteen dat you most c _eh_ rtainly, ahr not. T _uh_ rtle.”

The heels clicked away as she left, yet still he didn’t move, his eyes glued to the spot where Jamal was laying, still panting and dazed.

“Docktah Williams,” Snapped Ariel, and he knew the boy must’ve lingered. 

“Sorry…” He heard the kid murmur, before he too walked away to join that vile woman.

Donnie didn’t dare move. Besides the fact that he felt like he’d just been slammed with a sledge hammer over and over again, he couldn’t find the strength within just yet to do so.

“Guyzz…” Groaned Viper, “Hang on a ssecond. I’m tesssting it.”

“Please, no.” Donnie groaned back, but it was too late.

Viper said his name, and the results were the same. Electric shock, strong and deadly for all three of them.

After a while men came, electric sticks out and buzzing, but still Donatello didn’t move. They filled all three cages with straw, and after they left, closed the door and shut off the lights, only then did Donatello dare move.

“You know why they’re doing thisss, right?” Hissed Viper as he slithered to his nest, “It’sss becuzzz they are afraid of you D…I mean, R1-13. Never before in my ssixx years here have they ever gone to ssuch lengthsss.”

“Shit, man… I’m biting that son of a bitch next time they pull me out.” Growled Jamal, “I gave up once, hell if I’m doing it again! Now come on, Dooo-I-mean…Thirteen. They’re scared of sumthin, and with how that bitch was narrowing in on you, it’s gotta be _you_ , man, it’s just gotta.”

Donatello was still cold as he hunkered down into his bed of straw, shuffling and packing in the corners weakly in a poor attempt to make it comfortable. “My brothers will find me.” He said, repeating the words he’d said almost daily since he arrived, “And when I go home, the first thing I’m doing is taking a long, hot, shower.”

“Aw hell, I second that.” Groaned Jamal, and Donnie heard him rustle into his nest. “Second thing I’m doing is going next door, pulling that zap-collar off of the neighbor’s dog and chucking the damn thing at its owner’s head.”

Viper grunted in agreement, or maybe it was amusement, but otherwise fell silent…they all did.

It wasn’t until their snores filled the room some hours later that Donatello dared move again. He couldn’t sleep, not after…after….

He sighed and stood from his nest, exhausted, cold, and worst of all, hurt both in body and pride. He glanced at the dry kibble like substance that had been left, and the steaming water beside it. It tasted about as appetizing as it looked; there was no way he was eating it until his stomach begged him.

A shiver ran through him as he stared at it, the heat from the fans barely enough to warm him. He rubbed his arms, trying to regain just a bit heat, and did his best to pretend he couldn’t feel the raised numbers of his _‘name’_ along his forearm.

Maybe if he just warmed up a little, found a way to keep the heat localized, then he’d be able to sleep, ignore what had happened today and calculate a new plan for escape. There was no way he was staying here, not with these scientific anomalies who called themselves ‘human beings’.

Suddenly he found his keen eyes fixed on _it_ , the stupid stuffed turtle that Dr. Williams had left, focusing in on its stiff green shell as large as his, and the stupid dopey smile that wasn’t even slightly accurate for a turtle. 

The shell was he supposed to do with it, anyway? They had said _‘play’_ with it, but he wasn’t five, he wasn’t going to play with it, and he certainly wasn’t going to dry hump the thing if _that’s_ what they meant. 

His eyes narrowed as he approached the motionless toy. Maybe he could turn it into a pillow, use it to help keep the heat in, actually use it as a tool? Cautiously he poked it, making sure it wasn’t a trick of some kind, then picked it up, carrying the thick doll over to his nest up against the wall.

_‘It’s just to help keep warm.’_ He told himself as he tossed it carelessly into the corner. _‘Or a pillow, it could be a pillow, the most heat is lost from one’s head after all.’_

Eyeing the asinine creation they tossed in with him, he nudged the straw in closer, fluffing it as much as the stiff fiber would allow before flopping down atop his ‘pillow’, only to deeply regret it.

“Ugh…” He groaned, his hand flying to his head as the stupid shell refused to give, remaining just as rigid and rock like as when he first picked it up. It wasn’t a pillow; it wasn’t even slightly cushy… 

With a frustrated grunt he shuffled the ridiculous example of a terrapin further into the corner and dragged a thin layer of straw over his side. He didn’t need the damn thing, screw it, he’d just stay cold…

He lay there for a moment, huddling into himself under the straw, grumbling, but the cold was biting, and eventually, the shivers returned tenfold.

Begrudgingly, he rolled back to it, glaring at the green shell. It was just to keep warm, nothing else…

Awkwardly, he reached out and pulled the thick toy closer, curled around its carapace, and clenched his eyes closed.

_‘It’s just to keep warm.’_ He thought as he hugged it, though as he wrapped himself around its hardened shell, an unwanted memory found itself creeping in, one of when he and his brothers were younger, huddling in together just like this to keep warm.

“It’s just to keep warm…” He whispered to himself. 

_‘My brothers will find me.’_ He thought, picturing them snuggling up beside him, holding him, curling around him, whispering that they loved him. He tightened his grip on the stupid toy, feeling the burn of unwanted tears at the edges of his eyes, _‘They’ll find me like they always do. They will…they will…’ _Try as he might he couldn’t stop them.__

__Silent tears slid down his cheeks that night, soaking into the soft fabric of the plush toy they’d left for him._ _

__They’d taken him from his home, split him away from his family, hurt him, abused him, _touched_ him…And now, they’d taken his ability to say his own name. _ _

__He needed his brothers, needed his family…Yet the only place he could find them right now, was behind closed eyes…_ _


	12. Ch. 12

For a week things seemed to be looking up; Donnie was eating without being forced, sleeping leaned against them without fuss, and even left the couch once to sit in the dojo’s entryway during training. He watched them for about an hour before making his way back to the couch, but the point was he moved and did so without being asked.

The only thing that hadn’t changed was his distrust of April and Casey. Like always, he’d growl at the sight of them, keeping a wary eye on the two until they were either out of view or left the lair. He acted the same around Karai, though mostly he just watched her when he saw her. The growling was getting better, but that could’ve easily been because she was actually a mutant, and every now and then those mutant-ish qualities would show themselves whether she wanted them to or not.

Even Master Splinter had begun to notice the changes in Donatello and commented on it when Leonardo came for tea.

Everything was going so well…until Mikey turned on the TV… 

It was just to watch _‘Super Robo Mecha Force Five’_ , just like Donnie had agreed to, but he must’ve caught a glance of the News as Mikey turned it on, for suddenly that’s all Donatello wanted to watch, and _shell_ did he change, quickly.

In a matter of days, he grew quiet again, wanting to do nothing but watch the News of all things, studying and staring at the humans on the screen like they could give him answers to some question none of them could understand. A strange look had entered his eye, a wild, angry one similar to the one he held when he first awoke in the dojo months ago. He didn’t talk much anymore, even when Leo and even Raph persisted; his comments were always the same: _“You have my file, if you want to know so badly, go look it up.”_

It wasn’t Donatello, none of it was, not the cold way he stared April and Casey down, the way he brushed his brothers off now, or the harsh way he snapped and held his brothers’ gaze, as though challenging them… It was more Raph, or Slash on a bad day, maybe even Karai, not their gentle, sassy genius whose heart melted for a human girl before he even knew her name…It wasn’t their brother…

Leo sighed in frustration and buried his face in his hands. “It’s like he’s become _Raph!_ ” He mumbled, “Only, like Raph before we got together, when he was angry all the time, except in this case he’s calculating and watches, using words instead of violence. He’s openly challenging me about things too, and I mean, ok yeah that’s ‘sorta like Donnie, but this is different.” 

“Well,” Hummed a thoughtful voice, “What do you and Raph do now when you get into arguments?”

Again Leo sighed, pulling his hands away to thunk his head back against the bricks of the chimney they were waiting by. “We have sex.” He murmured.

“Well, maybe he just needs to get laid.”

“Karai, come on!” He couldn’t help but snap, his frustration beginning to seep out, “He still flinches from us like we’re going to beat him, and now he gives us these looks like, if we touch him, he’ll rip our fingers off and make us eat them. Suggesting sex is the _last_ thing I’m going to do.”

A serpentine eye glinted out from the dark for a heartbeat of a second before it vanished, and the thin shape of a woman stepped into view. “Ok, look,” She snapped, “I’m only going to ask this because I know April will kill me if I don’t, but, have you tried actually asking him why he’s suddenly wearing red instead of purple?”

“Red?” murmured Leo, confused, “He hasn’t been wearing anything except that blanket, he…”

“Oh please…” he heard her huff under her breath before she snapped, “It’s a figure of speech. He’s acting like Raphael. Now have you tried talking about feelings and all that gook with him or not?”

Putting his hands up, he said quickly, “Sorry, sorry. I get it. And, actually, yeah I did try. Once.” He admitted sadly, “He just told me to leave it alone, and when I threatened to read his file, he actually looked right at me and said, _‘Go ahead’_ like he didn’t think I would or something.”

Karai cocked an eyebrow, her arms folding, “And yet, you haven’t,” She murmured, “You haven’t done anything. Follow through Leo; you want to make threats, that’s great, but you need to actually, _follow through._ ”

He nodded, but didn’t say anymore, looking out over the city instead, admiring its nighttime glow. 

The truth was, he was afraid to go to Rockwell, afraid to look inside that file and read just what they’d done… 

Karai left him to it, her eyes shifting back to glowing slits as she searched the rooftops, waiting hopefully for any sign of their ally. It had been some time since Shinigami went off on a lead about Donatello’s whereabouts, and even longer since they heard from her; the recent letter she sent to Mr. Kurtzman asking to meet had been a huge relief, especially for Karai.

A moment or two passed, the air filled with wailing police sirens and the occasional gunshot, before Karai stiffened, her glowing gaze fixing on a lower rooftop. 

Leo followed it, down along the bottom of an old billboard sign, to a cat, poised at its base with its golden eyes flicked up and locked on them. 

“Shini!” Karai yelled, a flash of black and glimmer of silver giving her leap away. Bunching his muscles, Leo leapt, launching off the edge down onto the lower rooftop to join her. 

The cat purred as they approached, its golden eyes squinting, before it vanished in a poof of dark red smoke. A woman, cloaked in black, wearing a tall dark hat with golden marks like eyes, stepped out in place of the raggedy cat, her arms raised to greet her friend with a smile a mile wide.

Karai rushed forward, and to Leo’s surprise, grabbed her friend up in a tight embrace. It wasn’t really like her to show emotion so openly, normally she used violence or a good verbal jab to display her affections, and when she did hug or kiss on the cheek, it was done so usually shyly and awkwardly.

Just as quickly as the hug had happened, Karai snapped right back to her old self. Letting out a frustrated growl, Karai shoved Shinigami away and snapped, “Where have you been!? I was worried sick!”

“Wha-, me?” Cooed Shini, still grinning, “You knew I was fine, I sent you a message long ago, as promised. It just took longer than expected to gain trust, and then gather the information I can share with you now.”

“You sent me a message through a cat!” Snarled Karai. “A _cat_ , Shini, a _cat!_ ”

Shinigami however only giggled, reaching out to grab her frustrated friend and pull her close. “But it was a cute kitty, was it not?” She asked, before she planted her lips to her lover’s. 

Leonardo sighed and crossed his arms, though couldn’t help but smile, waiting patiently for his friends to finish getting reacquainted with one another.

They pulled away, smiling at each other, when Shini caught sight of Leo, standing back a little, and her smile faded.

“I…” She began, taking a hesitant step away. 

Karai’s questioning gaze followed, but she didn’t stop her, instead she only reached out a comforting hand, curiously waiting for her lover to speak. 

Shinigami took a deep breath and glanced at Karai and then Leo again, before she opened her mouth and said firmly. “I have news, Leonardo, news that you will not like.”

“What, about Donnie?” Asked Leo, and he chuckled, almost in relief, “Oh good, because we do too, only you’ll like ours. We-”

Shini however raised a gloved hand, looking serious. “Please, Leo.” She instead, “Let me first, it is important.” 

Seeing no reason to be concerned, Leo nodded and crossed his arms again, waiting.

Shinigami nodded and huffed a little, closing her eyes as though readying herself for a battle. “The first thing that you must be aware of, is that Donatello, is and always will be, a hero.”

His eyeridge twitched. “Hero?” He repeated, “What do you-?”

“He broke free of his cell,” Continued Shini as though he hadn’t said a word, “Stormed the building where he was being held, and with his small team, freed over thirty mutants that were being tortured, physically and mentally, until their will to live left them.” Her eyes flitted open, locking on Leonardo, 

“They had broken free of the building, made it to the open, when Donatello learned that there was still one more left inside. He left his friend, ‘Nine’, in charge and promised to meet up with them, then went back inside with a single rebel at his side. ‘Nine’ was able to lead them all to safety, but neither Donatello, nor his companion, ever came after them. All they heard were gunshots while they dared wait for Donatello, until it became too dangerous to linger. Months later they were strong enough to regroup and plan an attack, to find your brother and free him, only to find the building reduced to rubble. I’m so sorry, both of you, but they, as well as I, fear he may be dead.”

“Dead?” Repeated Karai, glancing back at Leo and then Shini, “He’s not dead, Leo pulled him out of there. The building was destroyed because we blew it up. Killed quite a few of those sickos too.”

“Donnie escaped, and stormed the building?” Murmured Leo, his mind still attempting to wrap around what Shini was telling him. “Then went…back?”

Shinigami blinked in surprise as the two of them spoke, glancing back and forth between him and Karai as though waiting for the joke. “Wait, he’s alive?” She whispered, her eyes widening, “He’s safe? Away from those people?”

Leo nodded, pointing back behind him with no true direction in mind. “He’s back at the lair.” He said stupidly, “Donnie really did all that? In his mental state? I mean, he’s really unstable, we can barely touch him without him flinching off the couch…”

Nodding, Shini smiled weakly at him and said softly, “They’re all really messed up like that. Why do you think it took me so long to gain their trust? They are not lovers of the human race, and I was certainly not welcomed; but yes, apparently Donatello led them all to safety, became their leader in a way, idolized as their savior. It was the one and only thing ‘Nine’ wanted me to ensure you understood, that if Donatello died, he died a hero.” She turned to Karai, her gaze soft and apologetic, “I must tell them. They need to know.”

“Oh, _come on_.” Snapped Karai, though she made no move to stop her, “You just got back, can’t it wait?”

“They think he is dead.” Continued Shinigami, “They are in mourning. They deserve to know that he not only lives, but is free. Come now, I know you understand.” She reached up to brush lovingly against Karai’s cheek, “Plus, it will be worth it when I return.” 

With a wink, Shini giggled and kissed her lover one last time, her hand lingering against Karai’s cheek, before she turned away towards the shadows, “I’ll have you cooing in bed just like the little Kappa-lovers when they think we can’t hear them~”

“Hey!” Snapped Leo, his cheeks instantly flaming, but all the two ladies did was giggle, one staying by his side while the other vanished with a whoosh of her cape. 

“You really are louder than you think you are, with your little, _‘oh y~es Raph more’_ and weird, chirpy, vibrating noises.” Murmured Karai, and Leo felt himself turn a shade redder.

He frowned and looked away, focusing on Shini’s story of bravery and sacrifice instead of the teasing of his churrs, when Karai came up beside him and rested an arm across his shoulder.

“So.” She began, “Shini’s abandoned me again, my plans for the evening are ruined, however, the Mutanimals stomping ground isn’t that far from here, ‘wanna go see what secrets old _Hero-Turtle’s_ been hiding?” 

No, he didn’t want to find Rockwell and learn what was in that horrible folder… but like shell if he was going to admit it to Karai. Ready or not, he followed her off the roof, up onto a fire escape and over the lip of another building, off towards the old warehouse where the Mutanimals made their home. 

It wasn’t a bad run, actually it was quite fun, being out with Karai was always an adventure in itself, one filled with daring jumps and quick leaps from roof to roof, sneaky passes by Shredder’s unsuspecting minions, and of course, playful jabs here and there that they tossed back and forth at one another. It was enough to keep his nerves at bay, but not enough to kill them all together.

“We don’t vibrate.” He sighed, hiding his amusement behind mock indignation as they dropped down to the hidden entrance, “We’ve been over this, Karai, it’s called a _churr_. It’s just, you know, something turtles do when they’re aroused.”

She laughed, leaning up against the bricks as Leo popped the code box open and punched in the numbers to open the door. “Oh I’ve researched this, churr thing, you keep mentioning. Real turtles crane their necks and…” She leaned away from the wall, her hands coming up to form tiny claws, and, in the worst attempt at a turned on turtle, began to mimic the sounds he’d heard himself, from the internet. “Hee-hee-hee…”

Feeling his cheeks burn, Leo paused mid type and snapped, “I, no, we don’t sound like that!”

“I know. Must be your mutations.” She said with a grin, “Like I said, you vibrate. You sound more like a pleased cat than a happy turtle.”

“Yeah, well.” He mumbled, typing in the rest of the code. “At least we don’t grunt like we’re in the middle of a fight. You don’t know how many times Sensei and I had to redirect Mikey when he thought you two were, _‘going at it.’_ ”

Now it was her turn to blush, her eyes widening for only a moment before she looked away down the alley. The door slid open, saving them both from the escalating humiliation.

“Come on.” He chuckled, trying to swallow his embarrassment, and walked into the lair.

The door slid shut behind them like always, a single beam shooting out from the top of the entrance to scan and confirm who they were.

“Slash?” Called Leo, ignoring it, “Rockwell?” 

No one answered, at least not right away. He stepped forward, peering around the walls that had been erected to separate different sections of their home, when a voice called out from a speaker mounted on the wall.

“Slash is out on patrol with the others. To what do I owe the pleasure?” 

It was Rockwell. 

“Hey, Dr. Rockwell.” Murmured Leo, “We were hoping to speak to you, you know, about Donnie? And his file?”

A heavy sigh rang through the speaker. “Of course you are.” He muttered, before he sighed again and said, “Come on then, let’s get this over with. I’m in the lab.”

“Oh, _that’s_ reassuring…” Leo heard Karai mumble under her breath. 

Leo was sure it wasn’t meant for him to hear, but he couldn’t help but agree. Rockwell sounded about as thrilled as Leo himself felt, and though he knew no matter what he read it wasn’t going to be good, the Doc certainly wasn’t making plucking up the courage to actually read it any easier…

They walked down to his lab, a little door on the right of a long hallway past Mondo Gecko’s room. It was fairly easy to find, all you had to do was follow the, _‘Mondo don’t touch’_ and _‘Caution, danger. That means stay out Mondo’_ signs that plastered the walls leading up to Rockwell’s lab.

As they approached, the door opened on its own, a normal occurrence when they visited the telekinetic chimp, what wasn’t a normal occurrence however, was the stench that hit them the moment they walked through its frame.

Grabbing at his sensitive nose, Leo stopped as though he’d been hit, his eyes snapping shut as the rank stench fought into his nostrils. “Holy.” He murmured, “Rockwell, what _is_ that?!”

“My pardon!” He heard the chimp call, “Come over this way so I can give you a mask, I’m a bit immune to the smell now.”

Eyes watering, he felt Karai’s hand on his shoulder, steering him to shell only knew where. He took a few steps, fighting not to gag, when something soft and cloth-like pressed up against his hand. 

“Turtles, you’re all so sensitive.” Tisked the doctor, “Just breathe into this, it’s an odor removing face mask. It worked for Slash this morning, so it should work for the two of you just as well.”

He snatched it from what he could only assume was someone’s hand, pressed his face into it and gasped. He could still smell a little of whatever that nasty stench was, but thankfully the earthy mask and whatever it was made of blocked most of it, allowing him to finally breathe and focus on vision.

“You have a dead Kraang worm, _why?_ ” Snapped Karai, her voice muffled from her own mask. 

Forcing his eyes to part, Leo found himself facing the outline of a hazy mass of computers and Karai. 

“I haven’t worked out the complications of disposal just yet, believe it or not, but I only sliced into it this morning.” said Rockwell. “However, it has proven to be quite useful.” 

Glancing behind him, Leo found the source of the stink; a gutted, cow-sized Kraang worm wrapped in plastic, left in the far corner of the lab.

“I needed a parasite that lives within the worm,” Continued Rockwell, hovering within view with a file box floating beside him. “A creature the men who had Donatello worked with quite extensively. It turns out that the parasite secretes a healing agent as it lays its eggs in its host, a potent one meant to keep the host healthy and alive, protect the eggs and keep them safe until they hatch and burrow into the host’s body. They secrete this, mucus solution, whether the eggs are fertile or not. I was hoping to be able to gather some, so far I’ve had minimal success as it appears able to determine the difference between living and deceased flesh.”

The chimp hovered the black file box over to them and plopped it just within reach, before turning back to his computers where a series of numbers and strange symbols Leo didn’t understand were flitting across the screens.

“Interesting.” Leo murmured, eyeing the dead worm and then Rockwell again, “Now, about Donnie. We-” But before he could finish, Rockwell interrupted. 

“The file has been categorized by torture method and color coded by date. You’ll be able to find everything quite easily, and if you don’t understand something then there are a few file drives in there as well, all organized by date. Everything that was done to Donatello was recorded, you’ll be able to figure it out from there.”

Karai snorted and stepped around the box as Leo bent down to examine it. “Yeah, that’s nice. Now was there anything in there about Donatello breaking free and pulling a _‘Leo’?_ Like, going off on his own to save everyone he’d freed or something like that?”

“Yes.” Leo heard Rockwell murmur as he clicked open the box, and lifted its lid. “Six months in he was able to break free, and with the aid of his lab-mates, referred to only as ‘R1-09’ and ‘C1-05’, were able to free exactly thirty two mutants. It is unclear why, but Donatello returned inside, killed and destroyed the body of a mutant known as ‘ZC12-01’, before hacking into the computer system and diverting all attention onto him. No mutants from the escape were able to be reclaimed apart from Donatello. I surmise that he went back for a mutant, realized he would be unable to escape, and used himself as bait to distract his captors and give the others a chance to flee. He truly became a different person in there…”

The first words that hit Leo as he peered inside the box were _‘Electroshock’, ‘Branding’_ , and ‘Water Aspiration’. He cringed, hearing Rockwell continue to babble in the background about the scientists, and how they described Donatello as a dangerous beast, but continued, flipping through the file tags one by one:

_Muscle Avulsion and Reattachment, Measurement of Pain Tolerance, Chemical/Toxin Reactions and Experimentation, Semen collection/Anal Stimulation, Bone Fractu…_ Leo froze, snapping back to the file he’d just passed.

“Anal-?” He read out loud, far louder than he had intended. “They _raped_ him?!” 

He felt his stomach flip and the color drain from him as he looked up, finding both Karai and Rockwell silently watching him, one looking disturbed, the other, emotionless.

“They _what?_ ” Murmured Karai through her mask, her attention turning back to the hovering ape only to bark out, “Are you _serious?_ He’s a _turtle!_ What the heck would they have to gain by doing that!?”

Rockwell however sighed and turned away, floating before his computers with his head bowed. “Like a Band-Aid…” Leo heard him whisper, before he took a deep breath. 

“They required semen.” He answered softly, 

“To attempt to genetically create a mutant, rather than mutate an ordinary creature and take the risks of unpredictable results. That, they did dozens of times; forcing him to ejaculate as they needed. However, there was one time towards the end, where they threw him into a cage with a mutant who’d responded poorly to a serum they’d been experimenting with. The mutant brutally beat him, raped him, and then attempted to kill him. Thankfully Donatello was able to kill him first, however, the damage was already done. From what I read, the scientists turned on the man in charge over that particular incident, and protected Donatello until he was in the tube we all found him in. I’d say they were the ones who helped us, though I’m skeptical due to timelines…”

“They raped him?” Repeated Leo, his mind popping forth horrible images of his screaming brother, held down and forced upon as he cried out for Raph, Mikey…him, or, or… closed his eyes, and pictured someone else, creating a ‘coping mechanism’ to get him through the… 

His heart nearly stopped, his whole body shuddering as though he’d been dunked in ice and then slammed into a wall.

“I...I need to go home.” He stammered. Snapping the lid to the box closed, Leo snatched it up and leapt to his feet, heading for the door, “Karai, call Raph and Mikey, ask them to meet us at the back entrance to Donnie’s lab. Master Splinter can watch him.”

“Leo…” Murmured Karai, so gentle, so understanding. He wanted nothing to do with it.

“Just do it!” He spat through his mask, when a hand closed firmly around his shoulder, yanking him to a halt.

“Leo.”

He spun around, a mixture of hatred towards those men for what they’d done, and self-loathing towards himself for not getting there sooner, for not being able to stop it, to _save him,_ swirling through his heart, when the hand on his shoulder jerked him again, and pulled him into a fierce hug. 

Momentarily stunned, all Leo could do was stand there in Karai’s arms. “It’s ‘gonna be ok.” She whispered to him, still in that oddly soft and understanding voice, “But if you freak out and start blaming yourself, you won’t be able to help him. Got it?”

Leo closed his eyes and snapped his arms around her, box and all, grateful for once that she was a mutant and able to withstand the full force of an upset mutated-turtle’s hug. “It’s my fault.” He croaked into her tiny shoulder, his teeth gritted and eyes clenched, “Donnie warned us that something wasn’t right that night, he didn’t want to go in there, but I didn’t listen, none of us did. I’m the reason this happened, I-”

“And now you’re the reason he’s free.” Whispered Karai, “And you’re going to be the reason why he gets better. Now stop feeling sorry for yourself, and start focusing on helping your brother recover, ok?”

“I…” He almost argued, almost complained, almost shoved her away and demanded to know how he, the cause of Donnie’s pain, could possibly help him? But he didn’t, because she was right…

“Ok.” He murmured, now understanding how Raph could get so angry that he punched things until his knuckles bled. “Just do me a favor, make sure to keep reminding me of that…”


	13. Ch. 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ***WARNING***  
> Character death  
> Tentacles  
> Egg laying  
> Bad flashbacks, and well, Its just a lot of messed up...you've been warned.

_-“Intentional Depersonalization- “_

Donatello screamed as the knife cut into his arm, pain searing hot through every nerve while the men around him simply watched. 

_-“It is a coping mechanism that people under extreme stress or who suffer from anxiety, adopt in order to deal with specific problems and situations in life that they are unable to handle as themselves.”_

_‘Why are they doing this?!’_ Thought Donnie as he pressed himself into the far back corner of his cage, trying his best to block the begging cries of his friend, Viper, strapped down just outside of their cages, his penis forced out of hiding while they assaulted him, prodding and pulling, all to gather their precious ‘samples’. But why? Why in front of him and Jamal?!  
Another whimpering hiss and Donnie could bear to watch no more. Sinking to the floor and drawing his knees up to his chest, he buried his head in his arms and cursed his cowardice as he felt his own body tremble with a now all too familiar sense of shame.

_-“They purposely invent a person; a detailed personality possessing the characteristics that are best suited to handle the unpleasant situations that they themselves lack.”_

_‘It’ll be ok, it’ll be ok.’_ Thought Donatello, his eyes wide and limbs tucked tight to his chest as he curled into himself in his nest of straw. His fingers leaving pale indents on his cold, clammy skin where they gripped too tightly. _’Need to stay calm, calm, breathe ...’_ He needed to ignore the rapid pounding of his heart, the swirling unclear shapes that floated in and out of his peripheral vision, and the strange itching feeling surrounding the injection site on the back of his neck. He needed to focus on regulating his breathing. Sensei had taught them all several exercises to do just that, but for the life of him he couldn’t bring to mind a single one. If he didn’t get it together soon, he was going to start hyperventilating… again.

_-“It is like acting, only instead of performing to entertain and portray a character in a story, they do it because it makes them feel safe to "hide" behind someone much more capable of dealing with adversity.”-_

Jamal screamed until his lungs stopped working, the men around him stepping away with blood splattered latex gloves the moment he passed out. The spring-loaded retraction hooks were left clamped in place, matting the now red stained fur and holding the incisions along the poodle-mutant’s arms and thighs wide open to let the air sting the raw nerve tissue of the exposed dermis where several tiny electrified prongs had been left embedded into the swollen muscles.

“R1-13 next.” Ordered the man on the other side of the glass, and he pointed to Donnie. 

_‘No.’_ Thought Donatello, scrambling to his feet from the corner he’d been cowering in. 

“Sstay sstrong.” Whispered Viper, “It’sss pain tolerancce tesssting. They want to ssee how long you can lassst.”

“I won’t let them.” Donnie whispered, his eyes wide and panicked, locked on the men outside his cage, “I’m sorry, you’re getting shocked, I can’t!”

“Then make it count.” Whispered Viper, “Make them sssuffer.”

“I-I can’t! That’s not the ninja way!”

“Then don’t _be_ a ninja…”

_-“The difference between a disorder and a coping mechanism is that the coping mechanism is something the person CHOOSES to do.”_

“R1-13 is loose! Sedate, sedate!” Yelled the head man, the white coats billowing as they rushed Donatello. “Quick, before it-gahh!!!!”

-Master Splinter had always taught him that ninjas were honor bound, loyal, merciful and respectful of all life, even the lives of those they considered enemies. Donatello was a ninja…but, R1-13 was not.

Bones snapped, men screamed, blood spilled along the ground. “Die!” Hissed Thirteen, swinging the scalpel he’d snagged. He missed the carotid artery, but managed to slice Eric good across the neck, enough of a warning to keep them all away.

“Get da little bastahrd alrready!” Spat Ariel, and Thirteen’s gaze flicked up onto her, standing there in the corner with a walky-talky in her hand. _She_ would be next…

_-“They are fully aware of that persona's actions,”_

Electric shocks ran up his legs as he stood his ground, the bandaged and broken men standing hesitant on the other side, waiting for Thirteen to fall; but he didn’t. 

He swallowed the pain and took a stance, locking his joints in place to keep himself rigid despite the way his muscles tried to convulse and betray him, his teeth pulled back into a snarl. “Come and get me.” He growled.

Ariel took a step back from the cage, her blue eyes wide and afraid. “Well.” She murmured, nudging the bigger of the men, “Go on.”

“Ladies first…”

-“…completely in control of their body, (they do not feel as if they are an outside observer)”

“We’re getting out of here.” Growled Thirteen, “Don’t either of you give up on me now.” He glared at R1-09, the mutant snake, and then C1-04, the poodle with an attitude. “What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger, remember?”

Four lifted his muzzle and eyed his cage-mate. “Who said I was giving up? I'm guna see my wife again, i'm guna see my boy. You get me out next time, and I’ll help you rip those bastards to pieces. Give you more time to explore the hallways.” 

“I’m becoming usssed to the pain.” Hissed Nine, “I may be able to sstand my ground nexxt time.”

“Good.” Whispered Thirteen, “Next time I’m focusing on releasing the two of you.”

_-“They have complete control over their new identity's actions and decisions”_

Donatello rocked back and forth in his straw nest, the sounds of his companions’ snores ringing around him in his cage. _‘Forgive me.’_ He thought as he rocked, his eyes clenched closed, _‘Sensei, Leo, Mikey, Raph, please, I’m so sorry, I’m sorry. I had to…’_ Yet no matter how tight he kept his eyelids shut, he could still see the blood dripping from his hands.

_‘I’ve dishonored our family…’_

_-“…because their original personality is the one writing the script.”_

“Hold him, hold him!” Snarled one of the men, the cold steel from their weapons biting into Thirteen’s neck and arms.

They’d been able to drag him from his cage. Donatello had subdued one before they pulled out the electric grabbers, and the need to become Thirteen had risen yet again. He’d fought hard, slammed them into walls, ripped open one of them with his own claws and roared as loud as Raph, but still they caught him, stabbed him in the neck with a needle that burned, and proceeded to half drag half carry him out of the cage and towards the room from hell. 

He flailed and growled, fighting them despite whatever drug concoction they’d injected into his neck. It slowed him some and numbed his legs, but there was no denying it, he was becoming immune, and the men around him knew it.

“Just get it in the restraints!” Yelled someone, their voice echoing as Thirteen was tugged into the lab and dragged towards a strange contraption that had been lowered down from the wall.

Four and Nine were already in it, their heads and arms locked in steel reminiscent of medieval stocks meant to punish and torment, only their bodies were restrained as well, with each limb pulled tight to keep them from moving; the only sign of their irritation, their twitching tails. 

There was one space left between the two of them, and Thirteen knew it was for him.

Refusing to go into the new torture device without a fight, R1-13 bucked against the steel clamp around his neck and wrenched against the ones holding his wrists. The men on the other end grunted but held strong, ripping his wrists back and away from his body, twisting them painfully in an attempt to force him forward.

“Why isn’t R1-13 sed _eh_ ted?!” Yelled a female voice; Ariel he realized, the woman who was lucky to be breathing.

“It _is_! It’s a double dose!” Yelled another, slightly desperate, “We told you last time, it’s not working like it used to!”

He slammed his tingling feet against the floor and wrenched back as they shoved him up against the device. He felt a slight give from behind him, but as he pivoted to take advantage of their lapse, another white coat whooshed in from around the machine, kicked out against his legs and helped slam him down against the metal.

Thirteen grunted as they shoved him over the lip of the table meant to restrain him, his teeth bared and snapping at any hands that dared come too close. They ripped his arms up, avoiding his kicks, and one by one he felt his limbs snap into restraints. The metal slid down despite his efforts, locking his head and wrists in place just like the others, and he found himself staring at the people he hated most. Ariel, Eric, and that man…Dr. Asher. 

A long scabbed up cut stretched across his face now, a _gift_ from the last time Thirteen escaped. He’d promised Four, his poodle-mutant friend, that he could have the honor of ripping that monster’s throat out, so long as they promised to leave him either Eric or Ariel…

Dr. Williams was there too, standing behind them with a clipboard, observing, but, he wasn’t like them, at least, if he was then he had yet to show his true colors. He was young, incredibly intelligent for his age, and whenever he was on duty, had to stand there with his clipboard and take notes. He always had kind words, or gentle reassuring touches that were never perverse while he was strapped down. Nine and Four reported the same thing, but despite how things _‘seemed’_ , he still couldn’t be trusted; he was one of _them_.

“Well, at least no one is bleeding or dead today.” Murmured Dr. Asher, his cold gaze locked down on Thirteen, “We’re half an hour behind and one man down, so let’s get moving. Miss. Nowak, Mr. Davis, the worms please.”

Thirteen watched as the redhead and the troll known as Eric wandered off to the far section of the lab where he remembered seeing small glass cages built into the walls, before his gaze snapped back on Dr. Asher.

The man hadn’t moved. “They’re all properly restrained, yes?” Asked the head scientist, glancing from Four, to Thirteen, and then Nine.

“Yes sir.” Said one of the men still behind the machine, and Dr. Asher nodded.

“Good, then fetch the oral spreaders and get these three ready.”

Instead of walking towards them with a mocking sneer like he always did, Dr. Asher moved away out of sight, leaving Dr. Williams with his clipboard in plain view.

The young man was watching them, contemplative yet sad as two men Thirteen didn’t know came into view with those awful devices in hand. One of them went straight for Four, grabbing onto his head as the other prepared the spreader.

Four snarled and snapped at them bravely, but the man grabbed onto his head anyway, forcing his jaws to part. The metal around them shook with Four’s efforts to escape, but inevitably the men stepped away, leaving Four with his muzzle gaping wide.

All Thirteen could do was watch as they advanced on him, his lips snapping shut with a growl.

They hesitated for only a moment before they rushed him, both men grabbing onto his head and jaw. Twitching against the metal restraints, R1-13 bucked as much as the contraption would allow, shaking his head back and forth, but inevitably he felt their gloved fingers pry open his jaws, and the device was slipped in.

Against his will his mouth was parted, forced wide and open for their use. The scientists turned away towards Nine once they were done, and as they did, Thirteen caught sight of Ariel and Eric, wheeling over three small glass boxes. Eyes wide, he spotted what they contained, and pulled against his restraints out of reflex. 

Three thick grubby creatures were wriggling within the cages, all the size of a small dog, twenty pounds each easy, with dark purple skin that shimmered with a strange slime. The closer the scientists came, the more active the worms became, lifting their eyeless faces towards the restrained mutants, their three lips pulling back to reveal black spotted beaks that clicked, scraping up against the glass with more and more vigor the closer they came.

_‘What the shell?!’_ Thought R1-13, his heart beginning to pound as it became clear that the worms wanted them.

“Miss. Nowak,” Called Dr. Asher from somewhere behind him, “Apply _‘subject one’_ to C1-04. Oh, and Dr. Williams, over here please.”

Thirteen felt his buddy begin to fight his restraints again, the metal rattling as the poodle-mutant twitched and yanked back in his attempts to escape, yet all Thirteen could do was watch, mortified, as Ariel wheeled one of the glass cages closer.

They were restrained, forced down with their heads still, their mouths pried open and held wide. He didn’t have to be a genius to figure out what was about to happen.

She paused the glass cage right before Four, the worm inside it wriggling up against the glass with jerky frantic movements.

He could just see his poodle friend out of the corner of his eye; terrified, wide eyed with his gaze flicking from the worm and then Ariel as though pleading with her. She however was just like she always was, uncaring and cold, with no remorse as she unclipped the front of the cage. 

“Applyeen ‘Subj _eh_ ct one’; fertilized, _Magnum Parasitus._ ” 

The second the cage door slid open, the worm lunged, shoving its beak into Four’s open muzzle right as it slapped its thick slimy lips around the poodle’s face, blocking him from view.

_‘WHAT THE F-!’_ R1-13 shrieked internally, fear making him thrash against his binds.

“Eric, apply _‘subject two’_ to R1-13. Williams, you’re supposed to be taking notes, focus.”

_‘Nope, nope, nope no! No! NO!!!’_ Chanted Thirteen as Eric wheeled one of the cages towards him, the worm within it wriggling excitedly as it thunked against the glass. R1-13 ripped at his binds, only to feel hands along his carapace as they applied another set of straps to his arms and legs. 

Eric paused before him with the creature, unclipping the lid just like Ariel had done. 

“No!” Thirteen tried to yell, but all that came out was a throaty desperate cry.

“Applying _‘Subject two’_ ; unfertilized, _Magnum Parasitus._ ”

Thirteen’s brown eyes widened in alarm as Eric slid open the door, the worm within it coiling up to spring just like the one that was still latched onto Four. He could smell its earthy musk, see the slime dribbling down from its three parting lips, his whole body beginning to tremble at the knowledge of what was about to happen, when it lunged.

He jerked as it slammed into his mouth, his eyes wide as the beak opened to wedge between his teeth as though to ensure they wouldn’t close. Its earthy stench stuck to his nose, but worst of all was the foul taste that leaked into his mouth as the slimy lips pulled closed, driving the beak in deeper as they wrapped around his head.

No matter how hard he fought, he knew he wasn’t getting free, the light all but gone as the creature pulled him in, tighter and tighter, the slime dripping down and coating his face, when he felt something at his lips begin to stir.

His blood ran cold as that something, slicked and wet, slowly squelched out onto his tongue, sliding along unhindered towards the back of his throat. He choked and gagged as it advanced, his body thrashing as it slipped down past his tonsils, when he felt it pause at his airway, blocking it. 

His throat constricted, his head jerking as his breathing was cut off, another fleshy something squeezing out around his face, feeling and coiling around, prodding at his lips, his eyes, until they found his nostrils. 

“Shh, it’ll be ok. Just close your eyes, it’ll be over soon.” He heard someone whisper, another muffled voice shouting from somewhere as a gentle hand rubbed at his carapace. 

Williams, it was Williams, it had to be, none of the others would even be touching him right now let alone offering words of comfort. 

Thirteen choked and squirmed despite the kindness, the lack of oxygen driving him to desperation. The slimy feelers prodded at the opening of his nose, sliding in and then out, before unceremoniously shoving themselves straight up into his nostrils.

He jerked and twitched, his jaw straining against the metal in his mouth to close as the little tendrils dove deeper, burrowing past the larger one until-

He gasped as precious air suddenly filled his lungs, his brain barely processing the fact that the larger tentacle was moving again, deeper into his body, as he relished in the sweet, sweet victory of being able to breathe once more.

As he gasped and sucked in air, reflexively sucking at the fleshy thing in his throat to get more, the strange organ contracted, a bulge forming at the edge of his lips. Focusing on air, he barely paid it any mind, until that was, he felt it move. The bulge took up his mouth, sliding carefully past his lips, along his tongue and down his throat as yet another bulge pushed past his teeth, gliding down right behind the first, the process repeating again, forcing its way down his throat without resistance. 

He could feel whatever it was thunking into his stomach, his body unable to resist as it filled him, one solid lump after the other.

He lost track of time, lost track of the number of bulges that slid down into his body, all he knew was that whatever it was, was taking over, squelching bulges of _shell only knew what_ deep within him until his stomach ached and plastron stretched worse than any pizza eating challenge against his brothers. 

He had stopped trying to fight it now, lying limp in his restraints as the beast did its deed. There was no point, he couldn’t escape, the creature had him in a headlock and was not letting go, and even if he did snap a restraint the men around him would quickly snap another on. All he could do now was wait and hope whatever the creature was doing wasn’t going to kill him.

Finally, after what felt like forever, the squishy organ in his throat began to contract again, only this time, instead of a bulge forming to glide down into his stomach, it was retracting. Bit by bit it pulled itself back, the slimy thing withdrawing from his throat back up into the worm still latched around his head. 

The beak clicked closed next, the slicked lips slowly uncurling from his face, giving him a glimpse of light he didn’t think he’d ever see again. The tendrils in his nose began their retreat, slipping up from his lungs and out from his nostrils. A thick layer of slime dripped down from his face and mouth as the worm creature’s lips finally let go, wriggling back into its glass box with squelching sounds.

Eric was right there, snapping the door shut the moment the creature was in, unbothered and undisturbed about what he’d just forced R1-13 to go through, as he locked the cage and wheeled it away without even a glance in the mutant’s direction.

That was ok though, because for once Thirteen didn’t have it in him to muster even a glare or growl. Shell did he feel sick, his belly heavy with whatever that thing had put into him, he wanted to puke.

A low groan sounded from beside him, tugging his attention up and onto his friend, Four. The poodle-mutant was free from his worm as well, Ariel beside him with a flashlight aimed down his throat. He looked awful, his white fur dripping with slime, his eyes rolled back into his head…

“Docktah, someteen’s wr _oh_ n.” Said Ariel, a hint of fear lancing through her voice as she stared into C1-04’s mouth. “I dink dey ahr hatcheen.”

“What?!” Snapped Dr. Asher, and Thirteen could practically feel the room around him tense. “Already? That’s not possible.”

_‘Hatching?’_ Thought R1-13, his eyes widening, _‘You mean like EGGS?! You let those things lay eggs in us?! You sick bastards!’_

No sooner had the thought entered his mind did the whole room erupt in motion. Suddenly people were racing at his friend, slipping the spreader from his teeth and untying him from his restraints. Thirteen expected to see his poodle friend rear up and snap at the men, but he didn’t. Four’s head dropped alarmingly as it was released, his tongue lolling and eyes rolled back, a thick layer of slime oozing rapidly from his teeth.

“Four?” R1-13 tried to call, but with his mouth still forced open his words failed him. He glanced at Nine, checking to see if he was in the same state, only to find his serpent friend with a worm still latched around his head. He snapped his sights back to Four, only to find the scientists now hauling his limp form out from the restraints. 

C1-04 didn’t fight them, didn’t move, his belly distended and body limp as they quickly dragged him across the floor.

“Get it in the circle!” Snapped Dr. Asher, rushing into view with a remote in hand. “Now! Move it people, _move_! This is not a drill, if one of those bastards gets free then say goodbye to every mutant in this building!”

Dr. Williams stepped into view as well, his clipboard in hand with his gaze fixed on C1-04. “Just pump his stomach.” He said, almost desperately as he turned to the head scientist, “There’s no need to, to…Just pump his stomach!” 

But Dr. Asher didn’t move, didn’t even turn to acknowledge the young Doctor. “They’re not in its stomach anymore…” He whispered, “They’re eating C1-04 _alive._ ”

Thirteen’s eyes widened, his gaze snapping back to his motionless friend as his heart nearly stopped.

The men who had Four dropped him in the center of the lab, the fluffy poodle slowly twitching into a ball, his eyes wide and glazed, his snout spurting slime…and then, Thirteen saw it; a pink wriggling worm the size of a quarter, slipping out from one of his nostrils.

A glass tube slid down from the ceiling, locking into the floor around his friend. 

“Ready in three, two…” Began Dr. Asher.

Four’s hand lifted, his glassy gaze shifting, and Thirteen swore he was trying to reach out to him…

“One.”

Hot blue flames burst up from the floor and rained down from the ceiling, enveloping his friend before Thirteen’s very eyes in a thick wall of fire, leaving nothing, not even a glimpse of the mutant poodle he’d grown to love as family. 

_‘No…’_ Something wet trickled down his cheek to mix with the slime still clinging there as he watched the fire burn. _‘No, no, no. Four…Jamal…Oh Shell, what if I’m next?!’_

He had no time to mourn, his fear taking over in an instant as he remembered the eggs laying heavy in his stomach.

“Get them out!” He tried to say, but the oral spreader was still in place, preventing him from speaking, his words only coming out as a gargled cry.

_‘Get them out, get them OUT!!’_ Wild eyed he began to thrash, jerking and twitching as much as his restraints would allow. He felt the leather cut into his ankles and the nylon slice at his arms, biting at his flesh as he struggled to get free. 

_‘GET THEM OUT OF ME!!!’_

“Sedate R1-13!” Snapped Dr. Asher.

“But sir, he’s already received double the dose, any more could-”

“Did I stutter?!” Snarled Asher, “You, sedate him, and you, get the gastric pump, NOW!”

“GRAHHH!” Thirteen roared, tears pouring hot down his cheeks. He flailed even more, blood seeping out from around his restraints. He was terrified, outraged, horrified and depressed all at once, his whole body shaking as the men came in around him.

A sharp pain stabbed into the side of his neck, and he felt the injection burn into his blood stream.

Immediately the world spun and seemed to twist upside down, shaking and swirling, but not before he saw the clear white tube being lowered towards his face, and felt the slicked plastic slip between his teeth.

_‘Leo, Raph, Mikey, where are you?’_


	14. Ch. 14

Leo had called them both over an hour ago, short and to the point, or in Leo speak, angry and upset. He’d asked them to meet him in Donnie’s lab, shut the main doors and leave the back entrance open for him and Karai. Master Splinter was supposed to watch Donatello, but, Raph knew that something was wrong, and worst of all so did Mikey.

Bad news was the last thing they needed, hell, it was the last thing _Mikey_ needed! He’d been trying so hard to find a way to help Donnie somehow, and when he thought he had finally found something helpful, Donatello turned into a dick and refused it. Poor Mikey had tried not to show how bothered he was, but the moment he turned away to head up into the lab, Raph saw it, a quiver of his lip, a shimmer in his eye. Damnit… Donnie was going to get his shell handed to him if he didn’t stop acting like such a jerk.

Raphael glowered at the lab door as he pulled it shut, forcing himself to take a deep breath before he turned around in search of his little brother. He found him, plopping down beside Donnie’s old desk with his arms and legs tucked tight against his plastron.

“I thought he’d like it…” Murmured Mikey, the sad way he huddled up against the corner of Donatello’s desk absolutely breaking Raphael’s heart.

Raph sighed and took a step towards him, “No, he-I mean,” Raph began, struggling to come up with words, “I saw him looking at the box again when we came in.”

Mikey tucked his face into his knees, a sad little sigh coming from him as he sat huddled there. “He said _‘why should I trust it?’_ then tossed it on the floor. He doesn’t trust me…”

This time Raph nodded, crossing the lab to his little brother’s side. “Yeah, you’re right; he threw it after you told him that April bought it. He’s got issues with humans, you know that. The fact that he picked the box up afterwards and started inspecting it means he trusts you and your word enough to forget April was involved and at least think about it.” 

He plopped down beside his little brother and wrapped an arm around his shoulders, pulling the younger turtle in for a hug. “Now come on, why don’t you tell me what the box actually is, huh? Whatever it is, I’m sure it’s a great idea that Donnie just needs to wrap his head around first.”

Mikey pulled his face from his knees, his bright blue eyes swimming as he turned and curled into Raph’s side. “They’re patches. You know, like for those smokers on the commercials? Only these are different. I found them in a magazine and asked April to help get them.” He sniffled a little and curled in closer, the misery pouring off of him enough to make Raph want to chuck the damn box at Donnie’s head, repeatedly. “They’re scar patches, little patch-things that help make scars go away. I thought if he wore them they’d help keep him from hurting himself because they’d be making the numbers disappear faster.” 

He peered up at Raph, his eyes big and searching, almost hopeful. “Did you really see him pick the box back up?”

Raph nodded, and even if he hadn’t actually seen Donnie do it, he’d have told Mikey he did a thousand times over just to see his baby brother smile again, and actually mean it. 

“Yeah, I did.” Raph said truthfully, “And you know what? That was a really smart idea, Mikey. Like, Donnie-smart, so stop pouting.” 

He gave his little brother a reassuring squeeze, even though all he wanted to do was chuck something across the room and break it. 

Raph sighed when Mikey didn’t answer, no cheeky comeback, no giggle, not even any attempt at teasing. “You know, he’s just having a hard time adjusting.” Murmured Raph, swallowing his temper for the sake of his little lover, “I mean, shell, Mikey, he still flinches when Leo or I touch him. It’s got nothing to do with you, he just needs time to recover.”

“I know.” Whispered Mikey, so softly that Raph almost missed it. “He needs to recover from everything those humans did to him, instead of me…”

And there it was, the elephant in the room…The true and horrible statement that had no safe reply.

Raph shook his head and tightened his grip, refusing to open his mouth and make things worse than they already were. 

He could express his love through motion and the act of love-making without batting an eye, he could hold his lovers and press kisses to them that would steal their breath away, but shell help him, if he opened his mouth to voice how he felt, or to comfort a loved one, and shit would hit the fan. Feelings were Leo’s department, not his, for whenever Raph tried, he just seemed to make things worse, a fact that he had grown to sadly accept.

It was hard enough having to see his once lively little brother fall apart, but even harder knowing that the youngest was doing his best to hide his misery from them all. Fake smiles, lousy pranks, and when Donnie snapped or growled at him, it was like what little was left of Mikey would crumble, leaving Leo and Raph to try and piece him back together. Now Leo was upset too, and Raph could only imagine what it was going to be like to pull them both back together on his own.

Raphael leaned over and kissed the top of Mikey’s head and rested his cheek along it, when he heard footsteps coming from outside the lab. He perked up, hoping it was Leo, and felt Mikey do the same. 

Sure enough Leonardo rounded the corner, a box in hand, but he wasn’t alone, far from it. Karai, April, and Casey were following after him.

“Leo, just hang on a second, you’re not ok, I can feel it.” Called April, her face filled with worry as she pleaded with their brother, “Just talk to me, please.”

Casey rushed in after her, his big gloved hand reaching out to stop her, “Easy Red, give ‘im a sec.” He called, “He just got home for cripes sake.” He managed to grab onto April’s shoulder, tugging her to a halt.

To say that their small family was the only ones suffering from Donnie’s abduction and rocky return would be a bold faced lie. April in particular had been taking Donatello’s rejection to heart, and Casey had to change himself just to help comfort her in ways he’d never had to do before. She was always so strong, but with all of their emotions hitting her at once, Raphael found it was amazing that she hadn’t broken yet. 

As Casey pulled her back, April looked teary eyed back at him, then to Leo, and Karai, now walking calmly after the turtle who was marching into the lab towards Donatello’s dust covered desk where Raph and Mikey were watching them.

“I just…” Raph heard April say as Leo slapped the box down with a thump atop the desk, “I can’t keep doing this. All I feel is pain, hatred, suffering and loss. It hurts. I just want to help somehow.”

Still seated with Mikey tucked under his arm, Raph glanced up at Leo and then Karai, a whispered, “I know.” Coming from Casey as he did. 

“What happened?” 

Leo shook his head and looked back at their human friends, obviously agitated but fighting to keep himself controlled. “You want to help Donnie?” He asked, “Then come over here. I found out what’s wrong with him,” 

Leo looked back at the box, his eyes narrowing. 

“And now I know what they did to him in there. It’s all here, every bit of it.”

Mikey scrambled away from Raph’s grip and shot to his feet, reaching across the table for the box, but Leo stopped him. His hand snapped out and slapped atop the lid, preventing Mikey from getting into it. Though instead of looking angry, Leo’s face softened. 

“Maybe you should just listen instead, ok, Mikey?”

As Raph pulled himself to his feet, he already knew what was about to happen.

“No way, dude!” Snapped Mikey, latching onto the box like it contained the last piece of pizza in the world, “He’s my bro too, I wanna know, I wanna help!”

“And the box,” Interrupted Raph, snatching it from the both of them before either could get into an argument, “Is now _mine_. What’s your plan, Leo?”

Mikey pouted at him but didn’t attempt to take it back, instead he scurried around the desk as Raph plopped in Donatello’s old computer chair, and came up beside him to peer over his shoulder at it.

“You end up with nightmares, it’s not my fault.” Said Leo softly, before he turned back to their friends.

“April, Casey.” Raph heard Leo begin as he undid the clip on the lid, “The best way you can help him is by coming to the lair, daily if you can. Stick to the same time, same schedule, same patterns. Keep your distance from him, but let him fall into a routine. Eventually he’ll become calm enough in your presence where we can start pushing boundaries, but until then don’t do anything strange, don’t break the pattern, and do _not_ try to approach him.”

Mikey leaned closer, but Raph shoved him away. “I said it’s mine.” He grumbled at him, but sadly, just like Leo, Mikey now knew when Raph was bluffing.

The youngest leaned back over his shoulder, keeping a safe inch or two distance just in case Raph truly snarled, and fixed his sights on the lid. Raph cracked it open despite his little brother’s presence and peered cautiously inside. If Mikey wanted to know what was in it, he’d find out one way or another, and at least this way, they’d be finding out together, rather than finding him huddled in a ball later.

He expected something awful, maybe pictures of a dissection or something, but all he found inside when he creaked open the lid, were labels and files, along with a bunch of flash drives with dates on them. 

“Karai’s already agreed to start a routine of her own, one I hope Master Splinter will agree to help with.” Continued Leo.

“Yup.” Sighed Karai, “I get to watch the boring news every afternoon with Donatello for an hour, because it’s soo exciting.”

Raph ignored them and focused on the box instead, lazily shifting through titles and numbers that he really didn’t understand.

_‘Muscle Avu-Avu’_ …whatever the heck that word was, _‘Electroshock’_ , ok, at least Raphael understood that one, _‘Branding’_ yeah he already knew about that one. _‘Water Asper-Asper, Aspir-i- tion?’_ Ok, so they made like a water ghost or something? That just sounded weird, not awful.

He flipped through the files, not really grasping what most of the labels on them meant, and turned his attention instead to the dated flash drives. Leo and April were still talking away, going over schedules and possible routines that wouldn’t upset Donatello.

“Bone fractures, ouch.” Murmured Mikey, as Raphael pulled out a drive and examined it, “And, Mag-Magnus pear-a-site-us egg collection? Well that’s weird. Donnie doesn’t have any eggs. They must’ve put that in there by mistake.”

“What-cha lookin’ at?” Came Casey’s voice, and Raph realized that his buddy had wandered over to his side. April and Leo were still talking, Karai there as well, giving him and Mikey quick glances now and then as though to make sure they weren’t getting into trouble. She really was worse than Leo sometimes.

Raphael shrugged, tossing the little flash drive at his friend before he reached in to pick up another one. “Just files and these things.” He said, “I’m pretty sure they’re flash drives.” 

“Well then, what are you waiting for?” Asked Casey, and he leaned over to the computer. One click and it was on, the flash drive plugged in and ready to be booted. “Just need to clean this, and…” He bunched up his sleeve and wiped at the screen, scrubbing the months’ worth of dust that had collected there. “There, now let’s see what’s on this puppy.” 

“Nothing good no doubt.” Murmured Raph, glancing up to find the screen with a folder wide open. Dates lined the inside, all of them ending with a color beside them, like some sort of code.

Raph tilted his head while Casey skimmed through and picked one, bringing up a loading screen. It was video.

“They, they _what?_ ” Raph heard April whisper, but he paid her no mind, focusing as the loading bar reached one hundred percent and brought up an image, looking down on the lab they’d pulled Donatello out of:

A man was standing there, a clipboard in hand as he lifted a few papers and then rustled them back into place. 

“Examination 127.” He said without looking up at the camera. “R1-13’s healing rate has doubled since first raw exposure to ‘Subject Two, unfertilized Magnus Parasitus’, and nearly tripled since second raw exposure. Subject is showing signs of becoming immune to paralytic drug as well as complete immunity to both sedatives, ‘K3’ and ‘K4’. Aggression has amplified past-”

A buzzing sound interrupted him, followed by a man’s voice over what sounded like a radio. 

_“Nowak’s down, she’s going to need a medic.”_

The man on the screen pulled out a small walky-talky and asked, “Is the subject restrained or not?”

_“Um…”_ The other man replied, _“I think so. If anything, it is for the moment.”_

Seeming satisfied, the man on the screen put the walky-talky back and cleared his throat. “As I was saying, Subject R1-13’s aggression has amplified past normal control measures, however, due to prolific sperm counts…”

 

Raph blinked, sure he’d misheard, and felt both Mikey and Casey tilt their heads beside him.

 

“…collections have been ordered to be continued. Today, samples of upper and lower gastric tissue, blood, and lung biopsy will be taken along with collections.”

A loud bang sounded off screen, and a snarling roar like no other bellowed out of the speaker. 

 

Mikey tensed beside him, and suddenly Raph wasn’t so sure he wanted his little brother watching whatever was about to happen.

“Yeah, I’m turning this off.” He murmured, reaching out for the mouse, but a green hand snapped hold of his wrist, stopping him.

“No.” said Mikey, “I want to see what happened. I want to know what they did to him.”

“Mikey-” Raph began, but his little brother ignored him, gripping firm to Raph’s wrist with his gaze locked on the screen. 

 

“I will _kill_ you!” Snarled a voice, a familiar yet foreign one that startled Raph into staring at the screen again, “Every single one of you bastards!” 

It was Donatello, forced into view with long, clamp like poles attached to his arms and neck. There were five men on him, three latched onto the poles while the other two struggled with their lanky brother’s legs. Donnie was fighting, he was fighting them hard, his teeth bared and hands shaped into claws, ready to gouge and rip at anyone who came too close.

“Get it on the table.” Said the man with the clipboard, stepping out of the way as they lugged Donnie closer, “And don’t lose it this time!”

It was…awful, and yet fascinating as they dragged Donatello onto the table and strapped him down, like a train wreck in motion, something that he just couldn’t look away from. Donnie was fighting, snarling like an animal, all ninjitsu forgotten as he bucked and squirmed. It was like it wasn’t him, like Donnie was someone else, a vicious fighter, not his Donnie, not his Donnie at all.

Once Donatello was strapped down, the man with the clipboard called for something called an ‘oral spreader’, while two others began working on rearranging Donatello’s legs, bending and then spreading them to...to…

 

“Wait…” Mumbled Raph, leaning back in confusion as his brother was awkwardly exposed. “What are they…? No, no, they’re not gonna…”

 

One of the men grabbed onto Donnie’s face, forcing open his mouth to insert something, a strange metal thing that kept him gaping like a fish. The man with the clipboard disappeared off screen for a moment, before he returned, holding something long and white in hand.

Raph’s eyes widened, hoping that the thing that looked like a, a, vibrator or dildo, wasn’t, when one of the men at Donnie’s knees, reached down, aiming for the pocket that housed their member without any hint of hesitation, right as the other with the long white probe reached for Donnie’s tail and then…then…

 

“Dude!” Snapped Casey, sounding thoroughly disgusted as the men RAPED Raphael’s little brother right before their eyes. “That is _messed up_ , yo! No wonder Donnie’s all wacked. Those sick freaks…Damn, am I glad you blew them up!”

Raph sat there, unable to move, white knuckling the arms of the chair as he stared in horror at the screen. Donnie was laying there, his eyes closed, mouth forced apart, taking it, all of it, his little brother, his genius, his turtle who was always there to fix the problem, was raped, and they recorded it, they _actually_ recorded it.

He wanted to puke, he wanted to bring those people back, beat them within an inch of their lives and scream at them and then puke! Shell, he, he…he wanted Donnie, to hug and hold him, to kiss him and make him understand those sick twisted freaks would never do anything like that again, and let him hide, hide forever under that stupid blanket if that’s what he wanted. Shell, whatever Donnie wanted _he’d get_ , he’d…

“That was supposed to be me…” Squeaked a voice, one that snapped Raph out of his trance and sank his heart into the bottom of his plastron. 

He spun in his chair, but thankfully Leo was already there, wrapping Mikey up in his arms. April was beside him, her hands covering her mouth with her eyes wide and teary, while Karai scowled at the screen from behind Casey, now reaching to shut the computer down.

“It’s ok, Mikey, we’ll find a way to make it better.” Murmured Leo, “We’ll get him through this, _together_. It’s what he needs. Support of loved ones, reassurance, routine, and if we can get him to talk then we listen. This is one subject we let him bring up on his own though, ok?” 

Mikey nodded, burrowing his face into Leonardo’s shoulder. “Can we all stay with him tonight?” He whimpered.

“Yeah.” Said Raph before Leo could say a word, “I’ll drag a mattress out. He likes to sleep curled up into us, so a turtle-pile is sure to help make him feel safe. Good thinking, Mikey.”

Leo offered a halfhearted smile, grateful no doubt for Raph’s quick thinking to try and turn Mikey’s mood around.

“I’ll make popcorn.” Mikey sniffled, nodding a little, his baby blue eyes lighting up just enough to give that spark that made him the Mikey, back again. “He likes it when I make popcorn. He eats it when he thinks I’m not looking…”

Raphael couldn’t help but smile, glad to see that Mikey was recovering at least a little from the shock of seeing their brother in such a disturbing and traumatizing situation. 

“What about puzzles?” Offered April, her voice shaking despite her efforts to remain upbeat, “He likes to fix and solve things, so maybe a nice puzzle or two will help keep his mind off of things? Something complicated, like a 3D puzzle of the city maybe?”

“Ooh, ooh! I have some puzzles still.” Said Mikey, poking his face out from Leo’s shoulder, “They’re not 3D, but they’re of some of our favorite comic heroes!”

There he was, bouncing back from all the sad just like Raph had hoped he would. Maybe…maybe it wouldn’t be so bad now. They had a plan, and knew how to help Donnie now, yeah he was messed up from all the messed up stuff those humans put him through, but with time, love and patience, and as much as whatever the hell Donnie wanted, then maybe they could pull Donnie back, and be a family again.

“That’ll be perfect, Mikey.” Said April, wiping her eyes. Casey reached out then and gently tugged her in, wrapping her in a one-armed hug with his gaze fixed on her.

“Yeah,” He added, “We can totally turn our visits into game night or something, camp out close and play some games, eat pizza. If I wasn’t sure he’d kill us in our sleep, I’d say we could sleep over.”

Mikey chuckled weakly, while Leo simply snorted. 

“Yeah,” Agreed Leo, “We’ll save a sleep-over for when he doesn’t think of you as a threat anymore. But don’t worry, one way or another, we’ll get our old Donnie back, I promise.”

Yeah, it was a start. Leo was right. They were going to get through this and pull Donatello back to as close to his old self as possible; he could snarl, he could snap, hell, Donatello could flat out attack Raph if that would make him feel better, but one thing was for sure, nothing, absolutely nothing, was going to make them back down now, especially not Raph.

“I bet he’ll like having Ice-cream Kitty around too.” Added Mikey, and for once Karai smiled and nodded at him.

“Actually, yes, I think you’re right, Mikey.” She agreed, “He might even start playing with her and focusing on her instead of what happened. Pets are considered to be great for people who’ve gone through trauma.”

Mikey beamed. 

Raph was just about to get up and pull both of his brothers into a hug, when the main doors to the lab slide open. A furry face appeared in its frame, quickly peering around before locking on the group around the computer.

“My sons.” Said Splinter shortly, his brow furrowed and whiskers twitching, “Where is your brother, Donatello?” 

Raph exchanged a confused look with Leo before looking back to their Sensei. “We left him on the couch.” He said honestly, “If he’s not there, he’s probably in the shower again. He seems to like it in there for some reason.”

The old rat shook his head, his ears flattening in worry. “The water is running,” He said softly, “But if he was in there, he no longer is. I have searched the lair, this was my last hope. I fear your brother is missing!”

Raphael froze as he processed his father’s words, his heart seizing up beneath his shell, and suddenly he wanted to puke all over again.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ***Warning***  
> Language  
> unintentional self harm  
> Drowning  
> Major Character death and revival

There are five stages of grief: denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance. Though when in a cage, the stages tend to be different. 

Fear, despair, rage, plotting, and desire for demise. Those were the five stages of a caged animal’s grief, the stages Donatello felt, and those were the stages that he as R1-13 planned to live by.

Jamal, his friend, his brother, C1-04 was gone, tortured in the name of ‘Science and Discovery’, and then murdered before Thirteen’s very eyes in a burst of flames while Jamal was still struggling to cling to survival.

It hadn’t been pretty when he broke the news to Nine. Yes, his friend had been there when it happened, yes, he had gone through the same torture as he and Four, but the worm had still been latched to his head, blocking his vision and cutting off his hearing…He had been blessed in a way, prevented from witnessing the callous murder of their comrade.

Men died that day. 

When the Scientists came in again for Viper, now solely known as R1-09, they were knocked down by the lashing of a long and heavy tail, sprayed with venom, and before they could sedate the big snake, one man was torn limb from limb. _That_ had been a sight Donatello wouldn’t forget any time soon. 

Within twenty-four hours, Thirteen was no longer the most dangerous beast in the humans’ care. Nine was more than ready to escape, eager to kill them all, and avenge every single mutant ever lost within that terrible place. All Thirteen had to do now was figure out how to release him.

There was a box the size of a tic-tac dispenser on each cage with an electronic display of four numbers on each one. The box was the control panel for the door’s automated locking mechanism, and the numbers were programed to change every five minutes. The only reason Thirteen knew that was from overhearing a conversation between Dr. Williams and Ariel. 

The walls were far too thick to break, the floors impossible to tunnel through making getting into Nine’s cage from beneath out of question, and to top it all off he still had yet to force his way any farther past the hallway from Hell. 

He tried interrogating the information out of the scientists once, but it got him nowhere. Torture was useless, as were threats, for he quickly realized that the men in his grasp weren’t the ones pulling the strings, someone else was, someone who shut down and even went as far as short-circuiting those little boxes whenever Thirteen got too close to unlocking their secrets. 

There _had_ to be a way to get the boxes to open the doors, there just had to!

He spent days studying that tiny little box, even went as far as to allow the humans to grab him just to watch how they typed in the code and then opened the door. That stupid box was the only thing standing between him and his friend, and everyone knew it.

Day after day he sat there, staring at that stupid box, plotting and running scenarios in his mind. He had to get through it, had to figure it out, for even if his brothers found him tomorrow, he’d turn them away; he’d never leave a single mutant behind in this Hell-hole, never…

Another day came and went, and Thirteen spent it watching; his gaze fixed on that stupid box and on the scientists who came to observe him, one of which was _her_ , that vile woman he despised and wanted nothing more than to choke the life out of with his bare hands. 

He watched them both, and was just beginning to zone out in deep contemplation of whether or not hacking into the main computer frame the next time he got loose during transport to the lab for ‘sample collection’ would assist him in hijacking the little box, when the door to the cage room creaked open, and a group of men walked in. 

They were new, Thirteen could tell immediately, for they didn’t flinch under his or Nine’s stare.

“The turtle?” Murmured one, but the apparent head man shook his head, pointing instead at Nine.

“The snake. Watch it though, it’s been acting up lately.”

Nine hissed and slowly uncurled from his nest, his four glowing red eyes fixing on the men before his cage. “Do you wish to die?” He rumbled, pulling one arm out after the other, his coils rising and falling around him like a wave of black death. “Then by all meansss.” He flicked out his forked tongue and bared his fangs, “Come to me, and I shall grant you your dessiresss.” 

“I think I’d prefer the turtle.” Whispered one of the new guys, taking a hesitant step back.

Ariel snorted, pulling Thirteen’s eye back to her. “R1-13 is da dangahrous one.” She said softly, “It’s killed biggah men den you. R1-09 is only actink up because anoddah subj _eh_ ct was incinahrated rrecently. We ahr still waitink on a rrepl _eh_ cement. Now stop actink like fools, we ahr expectink company.” 

Nine hissed, his jaws parting as the wall to his cage began to move in to crush him.

“Oh, and watch it.” Called Ariel, “It’s showink signs of immunity to da drrug after its last encounter wid da parasites. Dat’s how R1-09 killed da last fohr men who went in dere.”

“Gee, _thanks_ …” Mumbled one of them, when the door to the room slid open yet again, and a group of others walked in. These men were different; each one covered head to toe in Kevlar save for two. 

One was Dr. Asher, the other, a man Thirteen had never seen before. He was dressed in a navy blue, with military buttons and medals decorating his front that Donatello had only ever seen on television shows and in movies. He was watching the cages, eyeing Thirteen and then Nine as the cage wall pressed up against and squished the giant snake.

“Two of our most promising.” Said Dr. Asher, “R1-09 has surpassed the pain tolerance testing, and provided us with many different paralytic serums and four separate sedation's.”

The man’s gaze drifted to Four’s empty cage, before looking back at Thirteen and then Nine, now snarling and spitting his venom at the men who were approaching. 

“I was told there were three of them; two dogs and a snake. That looks like a snake, but that one right there, unless my years of experience and elementary school teacher are wrong, is a _turtle_. A slow, nonlethal, useless reptile in a shell.” He folded his hands behind his back and turned to Dr. Asher with a frown. “Do you think I’m an idiot?”

Dr. Asher’s smile never wavered, even as the taser poles from Nine’s cage lit up with a crackle. “No sir!” He said happily, “C1-03 did not survive the level six pain tolerance testing you requested, and C1-04 was sadly lost after its first encounter with ‘Magnus Parasitus’. We’re searching for a canine replacement, however, if we are to come across another turtle like R1-13…”

Thirteen’s gaze snapped on Dr. Asher, letting out a single deep and threatening growl. “I’ll rip your fucking eyes out.”

“…We will gladly be accepting it into the program.” Continued Asher as though Thirteen had never uttered his threat, “You see, the reason why these men are here, around you in defense suits, is not for fear that we will lose control of R1-09, but that our frequent escapee, R1-13, who has killed nineteen men in total so far, may get out again.”

“The _turtle?_ ” Asked the military man, sounding skeptical; Nine’s hisses dwindling as the heavy dose of tranquilizer they stuck in his neck set in. “You’re serious?”

“Quite.” Said Asher. “Killed my best man, Mathis, cracked his skull so bad he never woke up. You met him on your last visit. Also overpowered several guards and has made it out into the hall several times. Its intelligence is quite astounding, plus its ability to endure pain has been most impressive. R1-13 is becoming one of our most valuable assets. Not to mention our most prolific. It alone has supplied our Bio-engineering department with enough fresh DNA for several tests a day; they’re always demanding more.” 

“So it’s smart, but is it-?”

“Fast?” Interrupted Asher, “Strong? Durable? Yes to all the above. It takes fifteen men to restrain it when it gets loose, and around seven or nine simply to subdue it in its cage, due to the sedation and paralytic formulas no longer working in his system. It heals ten times faster than the average human from frequent exposure to ‘Magnus Parasitus’. It is a walking antibody to a cockatiel of drugs, inside of a hard plated armor that we have barely begun to test the durability of. Its strength and willpower, as well as intelligence, is astronomical with levels that we have yet to fully tap; now, imagine those qualities in one of your soldiers.”

The military man looked thoughtful for a moment, giving Thirteen a curious glance. “How was it with the level four tolerance testing? More human, or more turtle?”

This time Dr. Asher cleared his throat, a quick flicker of unease passing across his face. “R1-13 hasn’t been assigned any level four testing just yet, however, if the boss ok’s it, you can see how it does with the first test yourself.”

R1-13 growled, his eyes flashing dangerously. If they thought he’d cooperate and let them pluck him from his cage just so they could slice into his skin and make him scream to impress some stranger, they were poorly mistaken. Slowly he got to his feet, his gaze locked on Asher as the head scientist walked across the room to a monitor screen.

“A turtle…” He heard the military man murmur, “This had better not be a joke.”

“No joke.” Came Ariel’s voice, and Thirteen balled his hands into fists, his gaze narrowed and snapping onto the red headed witch. “R1-13, da tuhrtle, is dang _eh_ rous; makes R1-09 look like an angry kitten. It has prrevious mahrtial ahrts skills, flexibility, and a good eye. You cannot dahrt it widout skuishink it, and if it gets out, you best hope we can stop it befohr it gets to you. I heer tortuhr is now someteen it does fohr fun.”

The military man raised an eyebrow, before resting his hands behind his back again. “It was a human once?” He asked, but Ariel shook her head.

“No, an animal, but we suspehct it was rraised by a human due to its prrevious trainink and abilities.”

“And, you aren’t concerned about the humans who trained it, possibly even raised it, coming to find and take back their turtle?”

Ariel opened her mouth, but it wasn’t her voice that answered. 

“Of course not!” Said Dr. Asher, coming back to join them, “What we suspect happened, was that another mutant, one who was previously human, was what trained R1-13. Plus, human or mutant, they obviously don’t care very much as they’ve made no efforts to locate R1-13; I mean, why should they when they can easily go buy another turtle at the pet store, toss it in some green goo and start over, am I right?”

Both men chuckled, and Thirteen’s eyes narrowed even more. _‘Come on, open the door.’_ He thought, _‘We’ll see who’s laughing then, you big idiot.’_

Baring his teeth with a growl, he waited for the armored men to rush at his cage and attempt to haul him away, when a grinding noise reached his ears. He tensed as the walls around him shuddered, a layer of what looked like glass shivering up from the floor on every side.

“What the?” He murmured, taking a hesitant step back. He watched the glass as it slid up the length of his cage to the ceiling, effectively sealing him in with a suctioning squelch. 

Curiously, R1-13 surveyed his new cage, eyeing the corners along the top and then bottom of the glass for any sign of weakness. 

He had just begun contemplating walking up to it and giving it a good kick, when a thin crack-line appeared in the floor by his feet, parted, and revealed a grated drain the size of a sewer manhole. The crack appeared again to his right, and then twice more right behind him, revealing drains that he’d never seen before.

“Now what?” He muttered under his breath. This was a mind game, it had to be. He glanced curiously at the humans on the other side, their voices muffled by the thick glass barrier. Maybe it was a new kind of test, or…

Suddenly the drains around him gurgled, the sound of something rushing up through pipes reaching his ears. It grew louder and louder, whirling up through plumbing he never even knew existed, before bursting free in a wave of fresh smelling water that spewed gallons at a time.

Momentarily baffled, Donnie just stood there, watching as the water quickly filled his cage, icy-cold as it crept up his toes to his ankles in mere seconds, when his brain finally kicked in.

_‘Gotta get out.’_ He thought, the water quickly rising to his knees. _‘Find the glass’s weak point, microscopic chips or fractures…kick it, make it break, get the water out!’_

Without hesitation he launched at the glass, spun to increase momentum, and slammed a kick right into its center. He spun again on impact, whipping yet another kick at the exact same spot in hopes of cracking the glass, but nothing happened.  
The water, now up to his hips, slowed his next kick, but he kept trying. The glass wasn’t breaking, and the water just kept rising, but maybe if he went higher…

Wading back a little he dove to gain speed, kicking off the concrete and vaulted himself up against the glass where he was able to gain just enough traction to send him higher. The only downside was there was nothing to hold onto, so his hit needed to be perfect. 

Aiming specifically for the far corner, he planned to spin and kick his heel against the point where roof and glass met; hoping to create enough stress to at least fracture the glass down to where he’d already kicked it.   
It didn’t work. His aim was off just enough to skew his trajectory, causing his heel to barely brush its side.  
“Shit!” He yelped as gravity tugged him back and slammed him down into the water. It had risen quickly, and made for quite the cushion when he landed. He popped back up with a gasp, finding the frigid water now at his shoulders. 

Breaking the glass was quickly losing probability, so he switched gears. Taking a deep breath, Thirteen dove, pulling himself down towards the drainpipes. Yes, they were currently spewing out water, but if he could loosen the grate, get a leg inside, then there was a strong possibility that he’d be able to kick at the connecting point of pipe and floor, break the seal, and not only create a vacuum to drain the water from his cage, but an escape route into an unexplored area, and quite possibly, _freedom._

Reaching the drain, he wrapped his fingers around its little holes, fighting the heavy flow that was attempting to force him back to the surface, and pulled himself close. It wasn’t a standard drain, no screws to take out, no sealant to pick apart and pull up…

_‘Of course.’_ He thought as he anchored his feet against the concrete and pulled at the drain, _‘Why would they make it easy?’_

He yanked and tugged, wiggled and pulled at the grate, but it hardly even shifted. If he had more time he’d slowly shift the plate in the direction it had started to budge and work at it from there, but time was something he was quickly running out of.

Regardless of what name he called himself, Donatello was still only able to hold his breath for so long. In total he and his brothers could hold it for a good ten minutes; Leo could go as long as twelve, Raph nine, Mikey eleven, and Donnie anywhere between ten and eleven. The problem? The water was still rising, and his air was quickly disappearing. 

Giving the stubborn grate one final tug, he stopped and examined it. He had only felt it move a little in his efforts, and what chance he thought he had to get inside and at the drain’s connecting points was slowly dwindling, just like cracking the glass…cracking the glass…

_‘Water creates pressure, pressure encourages weakness!’_ He thought in excitement, finally letting go.

Kicking off against the concrete, Thirteen propelled himself towards the glass and stopped right where he’d been kicking at it. Pulling in close, he rested his ear against the glass, and waited.

Sure enough, he heard it, the sweet, sweet tinkle crackle sounds that meant glass was under high stress.

_‘Ha!’_ He smiled, pulling away victoriously, and grinned out at the people still watching his cage. 

Ariel and the other scientist at her side were studying him, emotionless as always as they jotted notes, while Dr. Asher seemed concerned, murmuring something to the military man beside him. As he did, the men in Kevlar moved forward, placing themselves between the cage and the Doctor. They knew…

Anchoring to the glass the best he could, Thirteen kicked with all his might, cracking at the glass again and again where the structural integrity was weakest, encouraging it to fracture and then break, when movement caught his eye. It was Dr. Asher, motioning to the floor, where yet _another_ sheet of glass was rising.

His heart sank as he realized what was happening; the glass had been beginning to fracture beneath his hands only to stop as it was reinforced from the other side of his original cage wall.

_‘Shit!’_ He thought, a mild sense of panic setting in as the new glass sealed itself, unreachable. He needed to clear his mind, get a better idea of what to do next. Giving his head a shake, he pushed off the concrete and headed up, swimming through the bits of straw and food that now floated around him.

He’d spent too much time under water, at least six if not seven minutes, leaving him with only a few minutes left of oxygen. The drain truly was his best bet, but timewise he knew it wouldn’t work. Breaking through the glass was his only viable option, but the question still remained; what then? They’d put up another sheet of glass behind his original cage wall, an indestructible layer of Plexiglas that he could barely scratch let alone smash through.

Thirteen grunted as he bumped into the ceiling, confirming his unspoken fear that they had in fact filled the entire cage. 

_‘What sick purpose does this serve?’_ He wondered, searching the ceiling for any sign of a drain or weak point, any possible pocket of air.

_‘They were talking about tolerance testing…maybe this is just to see how long I can hold my breath? They’re not going to…to actually let me die, right? I’m an asset, a valuable one. They just admitted it, unless it’s a mind game, and this is just another experiment…’_

He gulped, dread seeping in and weighing on his heart like a heavy iron anchor.

_‘Shell…’_

Pushing off the ceiling, he swam to the opposite end of his cage, hit the wall, and propelled off of it, kicking his feet as fast as he could to jettison through the water. Like shell if he was going to let them mess with his head, or worse, kill him for the sake of giggles.

Turning at the last second, he slammed the edge of his carapace against the glass, and heard it begin to crack again. He was running out of time, and air, chances of survival were dwindling, and he knew he needed to get more oxygen, or if nothing else, buy himself more time.

He swam back and repeated the action, ignoring the growing ache in his shell and slamming into the glass again and again, the crackling intensifying as the wall began to splinter, fractures spider-webbing across the sheet before him. He backed up, determined, and swam again, and this time, when he turned and slammed the edge of his carapace into the exact same spot as before, the entire sheet shattered.

Glass floated past him towards the drains, sweeping up with the torrent still pouring from their depths in a whirl of deadly shrapnel. 

He grabbed a larger hunk before it could drift down towards the floor, ignoring the sting from the splintered glass fragments that swam around him and cut into his flesh. 

He had access to the holes now, the little quarter sized ones that lined the main wall to his cage, which meant he had access to the glass on the other side.

Thirteen gritted his teeth, blood staining the water as he tightened his grip on the glass shard, its edges slicing apart his hands about as badly as the chunks swirling around him, and stabbed the sharp end through the hole at the second layer of glass on the other side.

He could feel his lungs beginning to strain, begging for the surface and a fresh breath of air, but there _was_ no surface, no air…

Again and again he stabbed at the glass, feeling the shard in his hand slicing deeper into his palms with every hit. He had to make a weak point, had to create a hole, a vacuum to suck out the water and return the precious air. The scientists could screw themselves and their mind games, he wasn’t expendable, and he wasn’t going to die!

He slammed the shard through the hole again, his determination quickly turning to desperation, when his grip slipped and the jagged edge sliced clean through his palm and bounced up, cutting into the back of his hand.

“Ah!” He yelled out of reflex as pain seared through him, only to deeply regret it as reflex yet again betrayed him by signaling his lungs to take in a deep breath.

Icy water filled his bronchial tube, his mouth clamping shut as he struggled not to inhale any more liquid and _shell_ only knew what else as it burned his throat and flooded his lungs.

_‘No, NO!’_ He thought, blind panic setting in as he realized his only bit of air was gone. His body tried to cough, fighting him as his mind screamed out against the instinct to take another breath, but all he did was suck in water once more. 

He thrashed his arms and kicked his legs, fighting for a surface that would never come as water filled every inch of him, weighing him down, the sound of his own frantic heartbeats roaring in his ears.

_‘I don’t want to die!’_ He thought desperately, _‘PLEASE!’_

He groped weakly at the bloodied water, burning claws ripping at his plastron and twisting at his lungs. His eyes widened, his flailing growing sluggish as his muscles cramped. His mouth opened in one last gasp, unable to resist as water flooded in, coating his lungs and stomach, a nauseating sensation of both searing heat and freezing cold with every fatal gulp.

_‘I’m…dying.’_ He realized, his body giving one last twitch before going still. _‘They’re really going to kill me…’_

Black, blurred tendrils began to creep in around the edges of his eyes, sensation tingling away from his limbs and inwards as if escaping towards his center while his pain slowly numbed to a tolerable throb that ebbed in time with his fading pulse. 

_‘Raph…Leo…Mikey…’_ He thought as the darkness took over, blotting his vision of the humans, still calmly taking notes, _‘I’m sorry.’_

Then, there was nothing.

 

He was floating, all pain gone, with nothing but a sense of freedom around him, but…something wasn’t right. He had just been fighting, hadn’t he? He couldn’t quite remember, but if he had, then why did everything feel so serene?

A faint light caught his attention, a small but definite orb that hovered just out of reach. It was warm and inviting, and felt, somehow familiar. 

_‘My son…’_

He knew that voice. ‘Father?’ He tried to reply, but his lips felt too heavy, unable to move or form words.

_‘Donatello…’_

_‘I’m here,’_ He thought, _‘I’m here Sensei, please, hear me.’_

_‘Stay strong…’_ His father’s voice whispered, _‘My son…stay…strong…’_

A force like no other suddenly gripped Donatello, latching on and tearing him back, yanking him through darkness far away from the light and warmth towards cold and unease. 

“You see?” Came an echoing voice, one that sent dread down his spine, “They always come back.” 

“What about brain damage?”

“Nonsense. R1-13 wasn’t dead for that long, plus, the lucky bastard has the benefit of enhanced cellular healing, that we suspect may also increase its intelligence and repair any damaged cells. Look, see? You can already see the lungs repairing the damage from the glass. Fascinating, isn’t it?”

“Fascinating yes, I’ll give you that, however, if it was strong enough to shatter the wall, then-”

“No-no, you misunderstand. The glass was designed specifically not to break. What you witnessed was R1-13’s _intelligence_ , not brute force. It created a weak point, exploited that weakness, and broke through, just as it’s been doing since day one. Obviously we will be redesigning the cage’s structure. It’s something we’ve had to do quite frequently as of late.”

Slowly Donatello’s eyes parted, a hazy wash of color greeting him on the other side. His plastron and lungs felt like someone was crushing them, the metallic taste of blood was thick on his tongue, something warm was suctioned around his mouth and nostrils, and his hands and legs felt as if they were on fire.

The first thing he saw was a series of X-rays, strange ultrasounds, and what appeared to be a heart monitor. It took him a moment, but soon he recognized his skeletal structure, lungs, heart, and body as it stared back at him.  
Feeling stiff, he groaned as much as his abused lungs would allow, and craned his head to the side. One of the scientists was there, tweezers in hand as they picked glass out of what looked like chunks of roast beef. It took him another moment, but eventually he realized that the hunks of sliced apart meat were actually _his_ palm and fingers. Dr. Williams was right beside Donatello, his pale face focused on the turtle’s hands as he sutured the cleaned cuts closed, with wide uneasy eyes.

That’s when Donnie felt them; hands, rearranging his legs and spreading them…

He had died, been brought back, and now they were going to rape him, _again._


	16. Ch. 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Warning**  
> Language  
> Mild torture  
> Character death/revenge

Over fifty floors up, Donatello stood on the ledge, the wind tugging at him and threatening to push him over as he surveyed the bustling city beneath his feet.

The cold nipped at his exposed flesh, biting at places normally protected by his gear. But, what was his gear? A few bits of cloth, a belt and some elbow and knee pads strapped tight to his body just like the damn ties that held him down against the tables while the scientists loomed over him, knives in hand while they prepared to cut into him…

No. Clothes, as few as they were, were meant to be worn by people, mutants with dignity and self-respect, by _normal_ beings. He’d been bare for so long in that miserable place that wearing them now just seemed unnatural, felt wrong against his skin, almost painful, like he didn’t deserve it.

He sighed and glanced around at the humans rushing about below him, oblivious to his presence.

His family however, he knew they weren’t oblivious. They’d no doubt noticed his disappearance by now. They’d be searching for him, frantic, angry and frightened, but there was no turning back; this was something he had to do. 

He only hoped that they wouldn’t find him until it was over. If they came now, they wouldn’t understand, they’d think he’d gone mad, try and stop him, and drag him back down to the sewers where they’d never let him leave again. As much as Donnie loved his family, he couldn’t allow them to stop him, and he wasn’t about to try and explain things to them either; they wouldn’t understand, he _knew_ they wouldn’t, for how could they?

He lifted his arm and stared down at where he had cut his _“name”_ from his own flesh, the patchy scar now covered by the little gift Mikey had tried to give him earlier. His brothers had attempted to stop him from erasing that barbaric mark, and continued to keep him from cutting the rest of it out. They didn’t know he healed twice as fast now, and they certainly didn’t know what those numbers meant, or how much blood had soaked his hands because of them.

But they’d find out now, he knew they would. They’d discover every dark and twisted deed he’d done after what he was about to do, but at this point it didn’t matter, keeping his family safe was the only thing he cared about.

R1-13 was an identity he had hoped to rid from himself, to erase and destroy before his family caught wind of what it truly meant. Though now, as he stood over the city, watching, waiting, he found himself grateful that it was still there, that accursed name that he needed to use once more. 

He growled and turned, stepping off of the ledge and back onto the rooftop. He’d been up there long enough, and if his suspicions were correct, then his plan was now in motion and he needed to get moving.

Making sure to stay out in the open, R1-13 sprinted across the roof and leapt, landing square in the middle of the adjacent roof. His legs shivered on impact, muscles only slightly atrophied from the lack of exercise and nutrition, but he kept going, refusing to show any sign of weakness.

His only regret was he had no weapon, not even a knife, everyone had been watching him way too closely lately to grab one before he left. Raphael especially had been keeping a wary eye on him, more than likely out of fear that Donnie would turn on his family or maybe even kill himself. It’d been one shell of a lucky break when Mikey and Raph left him in Splinter’s care.

All he did was make his way to the showers, lock the door, turn on the water, then climb up to the vents and slip out into the tunnels on the other side. It was a flaw in their security, something he’d found and kept to himself just in case he, or shell forbid, his family needed to escape. They’d probably never leave him alone long enough to use it again, and that was _if_ they didn’t figure it out and _if_ he was allowed to stay in the lair with them anymore. But if he was right and things went exactly as he feared they would, then it was all going to be worth it in the long run. 

He skimmed across an abandoned rooftop, slowing just enough to survey ahead before plunging on. There were a few things he had learned from his time within that hellhole, one of which was…

_Ding, ding, ding!_

Something small swished past his leg, missing him by inches. He slammed to a halt, knowing exactly what it was; a distraction, a trap set specifically to stop him. 

The moment he paused, the brick beneath him came alive, slamming up with vicious jaws that snapped shut with the speed of a bear-trap. 

Thirteen ripped his foot back just in time as the trap slammed shut, closing only inches from his toes. This time he remained still however, listening, waiting, and the beeping went off again.

Kicking off the roof, he managed to dodge one dart, only to feel something sharp stab into his thigh.

He grunted as he hit the ground and ripped the feather-tipped needle from his leg. 

_“Damnit.”_ He cursed, and twisted just in time as another shot out of nowhere.

Clutching the dart, R1-13 growled under his breath and ran across the rooftop, leaping the gap to the other side.

He knew it. He’d been right all along… 

Weeks ago he’d seen the news, seen those bastard men and their stupid van, seen Brit, the man who captured him, chatting with the reporter about a _“disturbance”_ like an average human.

A disturbance. _HA!_ It was them going after another mutant, he had known it then and he knew it now. His brothers hadn’t stopped them; they hadn’t done a damn thing! Those men were still out there, still hunting, still experimenting, still murdering and ripping mutants apart, and worst of all, they were still searching for him, his brothers, _his family_. Like shell if he was going to let those sociopaths get their sick claws on another mutant without a fight.

Thirteen skidded around a rotting billboard sign, hearing the beeping of traps going off one after the other. 

Darts peppered the air, whooshing past him just like the night he and his brothers had fled them the first time. The hunters should’ve been alerted to his presence by now, and if his memory was correct, they were on his shell, popped out from whatever hole they’d hidden in and in hot pursuit of their prey.

He knew his time was limited, but there was one more abandoned building, one more row of traps he intended to set off before some unsuspecting mutant happened upon them. 

The edge was coming into view now, the crumbling lip higher than the rooftop he was racing across. He hit the end, bunched his legs and launched up, ready to grab onto the adjacent building and soar up its side, but as he leapt his left leg buckled.

“Shell!” He yelped as he hit too short, his fingers scraping against the brick in his struggle to gain purchase. Gravity laughed at his efforts as it tugged him down, slamming him into a fire escape that groaned on impact and gave way, sending him down in a whirl of metal and brick.

The wind was driven from his lungs as he hit the ground hard, his fall softened only slightly, thanks to the pile of garbage he’d landed in. The loosened metal railing clanged down and stabbed around him, the bricks cracking against the concrete. 

_‘Oh no…’_ He thought, cringing as he spotted the rusted ladder toppling in his direction, and was able to curl up just in time as it bashed down atop him.

Pain and pressure crushed what air he had left from him, pinning him against the plastic bags of trash. 

“Yup.” He groaned from beneath the broken hunks of brick and metal, his arms and legs protesting as he stretched and shifted beneath the wreckage. More bricks thunked down as the metal atop him groaned, bits of rubble tumbling off his shell in his attempts to get out. “That hurt…”

“Well, well,” Grunted a voice, “What do we have here?”

Thirteen froze as the gruff voice turned into a cackle.

“Fuckin hell man, tell me that’s the turtle, tell me that’s our ticket to riches!”

“Sure looks it.” Came a new voice, one that stirred a growl from Thirteen’s throat as he recognized Brit’s accent, “Same one we tagged about two years ago now? What they call’em, eh? R1-13?”

“Yeah.” Grunted the unmistakable voice of Gruff, “Looks it. I saw it get hit, you think it’s out?”

R1-13 growled again from beneath the pile, his chest puffing out in an instinctual hiss to warn them to stay away. 

“Damn, it’s still up.”

The sound of tasers lighting up reached Thirteen’s ears, and suddenly he was back in that cage, the scientists around him, ready to drag him out, strap him down, torture him…

He snarled, ripping himself upright despite the pain, a furious hiss escaping him again. 

“Come at me then!” He spat at them, teeth bared as he crawled his way up and out of the twisted rust pile, ignoring the cuts and bruises along his battered form. “You spineless sacks of nothing! I’m not afraid!”

He could see them now, the two men who had captured him that awful day, standing between him and the only exit out of the alleyway. Taser sticks were in their hands, glowing hot and crackling, lighting up their remorseless faces as they took slow steps towards him.

“You got the net?” Thirteen heard Gruff murmur.

“Depends,” Answered Brit, “You ‘gonna get close enough to the bugger to net it? ‘Cuz I ain’t.” 

Thirteen’s leg gave a painful throb as he yanked it from the debris, his gaze locked on the monsters before him. “I wonder?” He asked, clutching the dart he had ripped from his thigh in a tight iron fist. “Does the cat know when it’s been fooled? When the mouse it’s hunting has the upper hand? Because I’ve known about you, _oh_ have I known.”

Gruff snorted, planting his boots firmly before taking another step. “Keep talkin’, mate.” He murmured, “You’re fuckin’ trapped.”

Thirteen tilted his head, a low rumble rising from him as he slowly limped down from the mound of scrap and rubble. He didn’t intend to limp, but that fall had banged him up good and he found it hard to hide his fatigue. “Are you sure?” He asked, “Did the men who hired you tell you anything about me other than what I’m worth?”

Brit raised his taser, one hand slowly letting go to drift behind his coat. “Doesn’t matter what they told us. Five hundred thousand is all I need to know.”

A flicker of movement caught Thirteen’s eye, drawing his gaze up just above the two mens’ heads. It looked like a shadow at first, a flicker of cloth or maybe even plastic, when a thick coil unraveled from the building’s side, followed by a set of four burning eyes.

Unable to help it, Thirteen straightened and then chuckled, a sense of relief momentarily overwhelming his hatred. “Well.” He said, almost lost for words as two, no, _four_ more shadowed figured with bright glowing eyes peered out from the darkness. “I can’t say I was expecting company.”

Brit and Gruff both began to snicker, one pulling out what appeared to be a set of cuffs, the other, a thick needled syringe. 

“Shoulda’ grabbed the net.” Whispered Gruff, oblivious to the thick coils now draping down from the wall behind him, “You go high, I’ll go low, we’ll-”

“Or.” Interrupted Thirteen, “You could turn around and realize you’re outnumbered and reevaluate your life choices, or quite possibly soil yourselves; I’ll be pleased either way.”

Gruff kept laughing, though Brit, he seemed uneasy, pausing while his buddy took another step closer. Slowly he turned, catching sight of a four armed, four eyed serpent rising from the alleyway with four other mutants slipping down to block their path.

“Oh bugger…”

Thirteen didn’t have to lift a finger, not with how quickly the group pounced. Nine gave the signal and within seconds Brit and Gruff were slammed into the concrete by two massive mutants; one a germen shepherd werewolfy dog, the other, what looked like a big boulder with arms and legs. 

The other two rushed forward; a feathery mutant with bright colored wings, and a robotic armed bear from the look of it, and snatched the weapons clean from the hunters’ hands.

“Fuck-fuck- _fuck!!_ ” Chanted Gruff as the rock-mutant growled from above him, slowly bearing down and crushing his left arm.

“This is all your bloody fault!” Snarled Brit, “I swear, every fucking time…”

But R1-13 just tuned them out, a tired smile stretching across his face as a brother he never thought he’d see again slithered around the fray.

“Thirteen?” Whispered Nine, his glowing red eyes looking the battered turtle up and down, “Isss that really _you_ , my brother?”

Thirteen nodded, feeling a bit choked up, and slowly walked closer until he was able to thunk his head against the big snake’s chest. “My brothers; Raph, Mikey and Leo, they found me.” He said, feeling his friend’s coils wrap in gently around him, “I told you they would.”

Nine wrapped all four arms around him next and hugged him tight, his eyes closing for a brief moment before he released Thirteen. “We all thought you were dead, my friend.” He murmured, “I waited for you, Five and I, we both did. We heard the gunshhotsss and we thought…” 

The big snake stopped and shook his head, a shiver running through him.

“I thought I’d let you go to your death.”

“They did almost kill me.” Murmured R1-13 truthfully, attempting to step back, “But it wasn’t from a gun. Don’t you worry, I killed enough of them to make my time there worth it, and don’t fret over it either, I’m alive and still my old self.” He gestured to the two men still pinned under the mutants, “Tracking assholes and plotting how to kill them.”

Nine grinned, but his coils didn’t move, keeping R1-13 secured close. “And what?” He asked, a bit grumpily, “You thought you’d jusst go running about after your brothersss freed you from that hell, weaponlesss, right back into the handsss of two huntersss? You were lucky we were tracking them!”

“I am not weaponless!” Snapped Thirteen, slightly offended. He pulled up his fist and showed his friend the dart he’d pulled from his own leg. “I was planning on killing them with _this_ , thank you.”

Letting out a sigh, Nine finally uncoiled, releasing Thirteen and allowing him to step away.

“After I poke them a little.” Added Thirteen as an afterthought, “You know, find out where their drop off points are, locate the men still alive, kill them all…” He smiled happily up at his friend and shrugged, “You know, typical plots of annihilation and my morbid curiosity of how many ways I can kill someone with a random object.”

Nine patted him on the shoulder and hissed, “Your brothersss musst not be far behind, shhould we wait for them? I know they would relishh in thisss victory.”

R1-13 cleared his throat and glanced down at the dart in his hand. “Actually, no.” He said quietly, “They’re… protective, a little too much at the moment. If they knew what I was up to they would’ve tried to stop me, or worse, tried to take these bastards down themselves.” 

He turned and eyed the two men, still trapped and hopelessly struggling beneath the massive mutants.

“Besides, they don’t need to see this, or what I’ve become.”

Nine craned around to survey the two squished men, looking rather uninterested. “Oh?” He murmured, “You have a plan then?”

Brit craned his head up at that moment, glaring at both Nine and Thirteen. “Fuck off, the lot of you!” He spat, “You think I’ll talk? Never!”

Thirteen shrugged, taking him true to his word. “Ok.” He said simply, turning to Nine. “Kill him.”

“You heard the turtle.” Hissed Nine, and without missing a beat, gestured to Brit, “Kill the usselesss basstard!” 

The dog-mutant pulled back its lips and licked its teeth, glaring down at the little man trapped within his claws.

“ _Whoa_ , n-now hold on-!” Began Brit, but the canine simply snarled.

Quick as a flash the shepherd dog dove, clamped its jaws around the man’s head and shook with all its might.

Froth and blood splattered the ground and Gruff, his companion’s screams only muffled by the snarling growl of the dog who was now shaking him to death.

A loud crack split the air, and the man screamed no more, his body twitching beneath the canine’s weight with his head still in its jaws.

“Enjoy, C12-02,” Hissed Nine, “If I recall, that wass the man who killed your boy, Charlie, wass it?”

Two, gave the man’s head one final shake and then released it, allowing it to thunk cold against the concrete. “Temper…” He panted, his lips pulling back into a snarl as the feathery mutant at his side stepped closer to pat at his shoulder, “Damn my temper, I wanted him to suffer.”

The dog pulled back its lips again before lunging once more, this time diving for Brit’s belly. A ripping splash slapped the ground as Two yanked and tore, disemboweling the bastard beneath his claws in one single chomp. 

“FUCK!!!” Squealed Gruff at that moment, his voice so high it mimicked a small child, “For the love of fucking God, _what the fuck was that!?_ ”

Thirteen tilted his head, surveying the blood spattered man still trapped beneath the rock-mutant’s bulk. “Death.” He said simply, “Something we will be happy to grant you, but only after you tell us what we need to know.”

“Fucking hell!” Squeaked Gruff, “You’re not supposed to be this smart, you, you…”

“Liar, liar…” Growled Thirteen, brandishing his dart. He walked up until he was only a few inches away, then bent down to the quaking human, “You know _exactly_ how intelligent we are. How many have offered you riches?” He asked, “How many have begged for their lives? The story you told when you caught me, about the mutant who offered you thousands to let him go, proves your lies, little man.”

Gruff’s eyes widened, fixing up on R1-13 with fear shining in their depths. “They warned us about you.” He managed to croak, “They said you weren’t a normal target. I didn’t, I-”

“The drop off location.” Interrupted Thirteen, feeling his friend Nine coil in close behind him while the bear-mutant loomed in from the right. “Once you have a _‘package’_ , where do you drop it off?”

“I don’t…” Gruff began, but the rock-mutant rumbled, applying just enough weight against the tiny man’s wrist for it to start to crack.

“Grah!! Fuck, just ‘lemme think, _‘lemme think!!_ The fucker your dog’s chewing on was the one who handled most of the paperwork!!” Gruff squealed louder as his wrist was slowly crushed, his face contorting in pain.

Thirteen glanced up at the stone-man, still leaning heavily against his victim with a scowl, and asked, “What are you called? I remember seeing you during the escape, but I don’t think I ever got your name.”

“G4-01.” Rumbled the massive rock, “They also called me, _‘Boulder’_. It is honor to meet you, Savior.”

Thirteen couldn’t help but smile, his heart soaring ever so slightly. “Are you, or your friend…” He gestured to the robotic armed bear, “Opposed to violence?”

The bear-man rumbled appreciatively, its lips pulling back to reveal fangs.

“No.” Rumbled the rock-man, chuckling deeply. “I will enjoy hurting those who hurt us.”

R1-13 nodded to the mutants, before he turned his attention back to the whimpering human.

“You hear that?” He asked, “You better remember fairly quickly, or my friend, Boulder, here is going to ever so slowly crush your skull against the concrete while we rip out your intestines and make you watch.” 

“What!?” Squeaked the man, “But, but…”

“There are plenty of other hunters out there.” Whispered Thirteen, “And I have no problem killing you, and then going out to find another one to take your place. Now, _think_ …”

Gruff stuttered for a moment, his words nothing but a jumble of terrified squeaks, before finally a single utterance was made clear. “I…Last time it was along a beach, before that it was in the Bronx by the zoo, there’s a man named Henry- _Henry Grail_.”

R1-13 stiffened at the name, for he knew it, and he knew it well.

“Yeah, yeah, Grail is the guy who sets up the times and the drops. They ain’t doing them at the buildings no more, not after the group that took out the last one. Think it was the group that stole you from-”

“ _Freed._ ” Thirteen corrected with a snap, his teeth clenching into a growl, “They _freed_ me from that hell, not stole. Now, where is the new drop off location, or, better yet, where is Dr. Grail?”

“I don’t know!” Said Gruff quickly, “Fuck me, I’m being honest here; they don’t tell us shit ‘till we have a package. I literally don’t know anymore. I’ll do anything, _please!_ L-look, I’ve got about twenty-grand in my account right now; please, if you just let me go, I’ll-”

_“Please?”_ Repeated Thirteen, tilting his head with a curious scowl, “How many mutants have you heard cry _‘Please?”_ He asked, “How many promised you a fortune in exchange for their freedom, only for you to _laugh_ at them?” 

Straightening up, R1-13 looked down thoughtfully at the pathetic excuse for a homo sapiens; his usefulness had worn out. 

“Kill him, slowly this time, starting with his toes.”

Gruff’s eyes widened, his burly chin quivering as the mutants around him grinned, each one stepping closer with claws out, ready to rip a hunk from the vile trash who’d helped catch and imprison them all.

“No…” He whispered, his head shaking as though any moment he would wake up and this would all be some nightmare, “You, y-you said-”

“I said I’d give you death.” Chuckled R1-13, a cool smile replacing his frown as he twirled the dart between his fingers, “And that’s _exactly_ what I plan to give you.” Before he lunged downwards, stabbing the needle straight into the monster’s eye.


	17. Ch. 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ***Warning***  
> Implied drowning and revival of major character  
> (Everyone thank Ikara again for making this chapter a good one!)

“Stupid turtle…”

Those were the last muffled words Donatello remembered hearing before he lost his breath, water flooding his lungs for the sixteenth time, or was it the twentieth? He’d drowned so many times now that he’d lost count.

It was hard to keep track of anything lately. He didn’t even remember how many times he’d been forced to ejaculate for “collections”, sliced and prodded for the sake of testing his pain tolerance, or how many times he’d been used as a receptacle for that worm thing to spit its filthy eggs into…

Darkness always greeted him when he took in water, sometimes there would be a ball of light that would call out to him, beckoning him back to the living world. But other times, like now, there’d be harsh words, whispering demons hiding beneath all too familiar voices, cursing him, dragging him back down into the endless mire of black…

 _“You’re disgusting…”_ Hissed the unmistakable voice of Leonardo, _“I can’t believe I ever called you ‘brother’.”_

_“You monster!”_ Screamed a female voice… April? _“Those were people! Human beings with families, and you killed them! How could you?!”_

“I had to!” Donnie tried to argue with the disembodied voice of the girl he once loved, “You don’t understand! I tried to reason with them, they left me no choice!”

 _“There is always a choice.”_

Master Splinter; he was nowhere in sight yet it sounded as if he were only a few feet away. 

_“You have dishonored this family; you have dishonored our name!”_ Disappointment dripped from every word. _“…You have dishonored me.”_

Donatello stuttered, dumb struck by his Sensei’s words. He wanted to reach out to his father, to try to explain, to beg for forgiveness, but another voice cut him off before he had the chance. 

_“I’m only ‘gonna say this once,”_ It was Raphael, _“Stay the hell away from us!”_

His brother’s growl erupted into a roar, but it was the threat behind his words more than anything that made Donatello cringe. 

_“You’re not my brother…”_ Mikey, not him too! But he didn’t sound angry, it was more like he was on the verge of tears, or… afraid. His little brother, his only little brother, was afraid of him now?

“No, no please!” Donatello couldn’t bear the thought of Mikey, of any of his brothers, being afraid of him, “I can explain!”

 _“Sensei should just mutate us a new brother.”_ Said Leo. _“Anything would be better than what you’ve become.”_

“I’m sorry!” Donnie cried, tucking into himself, “I’m so sorry! I just didn’t want them to hurt me anymore, I just-”

_“Threw away my teachings! You tainted everything I taught you for your own selfish needs!”_

“No, please! Sensei!” Begged Donatello, “I-I just…It was self-defense! They were torturing me; I only killed them to make them stop! It bought me more time, that’s the only reason, I-”

 _“You killed them because you wanted to!”_ April accused, _“You did it because you enjoyed it!”_

“No, no I didn’t!” He swore, “Please, please just hear me out-”

_“Liar!”_

_“Murderer!”_

_“Bastard!”_

_“How dare you call yourself a Hamato?!”_

Their furious voices echoed all around him. Tears poured down Donatello’s cheeks as he buried his face in his hands, his body wrapped tightly in the fetal position as he fought the instinct to just retract into his shell and let the darkness swallow him. 

“I’m s-sorry.” He wept, “Please… I love you…”

 _“You ‘love’ us?!”_ Leonardo scoffed.

 _“That what you call those twisted fantasies of yours?”_ Snarled Raphael.

 _“Dude, how could you even think of us like that?! It’s sick!”_ Came little Michelangelo, sounding so betrayed.

 _“That’s whacked,”_ Casey Jones; so, the vigilante finally showed up to take his shot in this verbal firing squad… _“How messed up do you have to be to think about screwing your own brothers?? Frickin’ nasty, man!”_

Donnie’s heart clenched, he couldn’t take any more of this.

“Please…”

_“Your actions have brought shame and dishonor to this family.” Growled Splinter, his voice firm and laced with a tone of finality. “You are no son of mine. Be gone, and never disgrace us with your presence again!”_

…Silence.

....Silence, and then… Oblivion.

Donatello’s eyes shot open with a gasp, his whole body covered in a cold sweat as he trembled against something soft.

“Easy now,” Whispered a voice, “Don’t kill me please. I just need to finish re-stitching the gash on your head.”

Shaking head to toe, Donnie blinked, he was no longer trapped in the darkness. On the contrary, things were painfully bright now and he needed a moment for the colors to stop whirling about for him to be able to focus and place his surroundings. Bleached white walls, broken up with the occasional metallic grays of intercom panels and small blinking red lights. There was what felt like fabric pressed close against him, and warm, something very warm against his wet cheek.

 

“That’s right, nice and easy.” Continued the voice, a man’s voice, soft and gentle, young and, and, he _knew_ that voice. It was Dr. Williams. “Just please don’t kill me…”

Donnie turned his gaze ever so slightly, and found himself only an inch away from a damp blue shirt, a white lab coat, and the faint scent of chemicals. His head was being pillowed on the scientist’s lap, like what April used to do when they were hurt or unconscious. It was a kind gesture… but why?

“I…” He croaked, his lungs protesting speech, “I don’t want to kill anyone.”

Dr. Williams chuckled, and Donnie felt a slight prick and then pull along his scalp. “Yeah, you aren’t exactly convincing in that department.”

Donnie blinked again, his brain still too fuzzy to fully appreciate the incredulity of having a conversation about his homicidal tendencies while lying in Dr. William’s lap, yet still cognizant enough to want answers; “You’ve never tried to hurt me. You show remorse, but I don’t know why.”

He shifted, trying to get comfortable in the straps that were…were…not on him?

Slowly he lifted an arm, certain he was dreaming or perhaps even hallucinating again, but sure enough saw it trembling just inches away from him in the air, free and untethered.

“Yeah, well.” Murmured Williams, “I have no desire to be here, and watching you beat the snot out of the guys who do, has been my entertainment lately. I usually bring popcorn, but this time I brought pizza. Want some?” 

Yup, this was a dream. 

Donnie flopped his arm back down against the concrete and shrugged. “Sure, why the shell not? It’s been a while since I dreamt of pizza.”

“You dream of pizza?” Dr. Williams raised an eye brow as he tied off the sutures, “Yeah, alright. I guess I’d be dreaming of food too if all I had to eat was that soggy cardboard they call kibble.” He chuckled, and Donatello felt hands gently ease under his shoulders and shift him up off of his lap. 

Instant pain seared through his body making him cringe, every bit of him aching as the young man gently laid him down in the straw. 

“Just, please don’t kill me.” Whispered Dr. Williams, so softly that Donnie knew he hadn’t been meant to hear it. 

Donnie listened to him walk away, and craned his stiff neck in the direction the human had disappeared. The door to his cage was wide open, another clear indication that he was dreaming, while the young scientist made his way over to what appeared to be a lunch box. But, if this was a dream, then why was he in pain?

“So, thank you for not killing me.” Called Williams as he shuffled through his lunch box, “If you were kind enough to let me live, I was planning on telling you a few things and then asking you a question. If you don’t mind, of course.”

Letting out a groan, Donnie slowly forced himself up into a sitting position and leaned against the glass, finding Nine’s cage empty. “I already told you.” He murmured, coughing a little as his words scratched at his throat, “I don’t want to kill anyone. You hurt me, and I’ll defend myself, you come at me to drag me out of my cage to hurt me, and I’ll make sure you never touch me again. Your people started this, not me.”

Straightening up, Dr. Williams withdrew a plastic bag stuffed with pizza, and a small folder which he tucked under his arm. “Not _my_ people.” He corrected, “Just people I work with.”

Donnie snorted. “What’s the difference? You willingly work with them. That makes them _your_ people.”

He huffed and thunked his throbbing head back against the glass, watching as the human crossed the cage back to him, but Dr. Williams didn’t look amused, far from it.

“Right…” He muttered under his breath. The young man came back and knelt down beside Donatello, popping open the bag to fish out a slice. “So, anyway, about that question..?”  
Donnie simply shrugged, having nothing better to do. “Sure, why not? Ask away, dream-man.”

“Dream-man?” Repeated Dr. Williams, cocking an eyebrow. “Oh, I get it, because of how out of the norm this is.” He shook his head and pointed up. “It’s not a dream, the cameras are out.”

Donatello cocked an eyeridge of his own, his head giving another throb as he tilted it disbelievingly.

“I’m serious.” Williams continued as Donnie simply stared at him, “It’s a glitch in the system. Every thirty days the cameras reset back to factory settings, or in simple terms, they blue screen and shut off.”

While Donnie watched him suspiciously, the young man pulled out a slice of pizza and handed it out to him like it was lunch time on the playground.

“And when they shut off.” Said Williams, “It triggers a safety protocol, which puts all rooms and cages into a type of lockdown. No one in, no one out for a full three hours.”

Donnie eyed the pizza for a moment before glancing back at the doctor. “And yet.” He murmured, still unenthused, “My cage is open and you’re telling me some deep dark lab secret while handing me a slice of pizza. Forgive my skepticism that this is actually-” 

Looking impossibly impatient, Dr. Williams withdrew the needle he’d used to stitch Donnie’s head back together from his lab coat, then jabbed it straight into Donatello’s thigh.  
“What the shell?!” Donnie yelped, his lungs screaming in their continued protest as he ripped his legs away. “That hurt! You sick, twisted-”

“Will you stop and just listen to me?!” Snapped Williams just as indignantly, “That felt real because it _was_ real. The lockdown was approaching, you were waking up, the others dropped you and ran because they were afraid you would maul them. I stayed because your head was bleeding, giving me a perfect excuse to remain and have an opportunity to talk to you without anyone knowing. Now pay attention so I can hopefully do something good for once!”

He slapped the pizza down atop Donnie’s knee and folded his arms with a huff. “Take the damn peace offering and listen, because what I have to say is important, dammit!” 

Too stunned to do anything other than stare at the huffy, possibly suicidal human, Donatello stayed rooted to the spot. Everything seemed so real, but… He glanced down at the little slice of what appeared to be anchovy and pepperoni pizza, still eyeing it uneasily, and then slowly picked it up.

“Look,” Sighed Williams, pulling out a slice for himself, “You’re smart. I’ve been going over the observational notes on your intelligence, and trust me when I say you’re off the chart and they haven’t even begun to fully try to test it, which, eventually, they will. So I trust that you’ll understand what I’m trying to tell you.”

Donnie checked the pizza carefully before taking a small bite. He expected the same traditional dream pizza blandness to fill his taste buds, but when his tongue touched the cold spongey outer crust, he was caught off guard as a blast of flavor erupted in his mouth and danced along his taste buds. He nearly choked. 

“Holy shell, it’s pizza.” He coughed, staring dumbfounded at the slice in his palm, “It’s really real pizza…”

Dr. Williams however, smacked his forehead. “Yes, yes, it is.” He groaned in frustration, “Now can that I.Q. I was just complementing come out and play?”

Donnie’s gaze snapped onto the young man before him as though seeing him for the first time. “There’s a glitch in the system.” He repeated, his eyes widening as he slowly understood, “You’re telling me about a glitch, because you want to help me.”

“ _There_ it is!” Cheered Dr. Williams, clapping his hands. “Yes, as many of you as I can. Now as I was saying, when the system shuts down, it puts all cages and rooms into lockdown, a lockdown that resets all passcodes to the exact same numbers; 0231. Every cage, every room, for three whole hours, and no one except for me, and now you, knows it. There’s only about twenty minutes left of this lockdown, not nearly enough time to do much of anything without getting caught, but if you act immediately next lockdown, you’ll have three hours to do as you please.”

Taking a large bite of his pizza, Donnie took a moment to simply savor the delicious morsel before responding. “Look, I may not have a reason to kill you, but I don’t have a whole lot of reasons to trust you either. So, my question, Doctor, what’s stopping this from becoming a mind game? Just another way for you guys to screw with my head?” 

Williams shrugged and mimicked Donnie by taking a bite of his own pizza. “What’s stopping you from attacking and killing me right now?” He countered, “It’s something I’m just going to have to trust won’t happen, now isn’t it?”

Donnie narrowed his eyes at him but didn’t say a word, choosing instead to take another bite. He had a point, but when a scientist had a point, it usually was because they were holding a scalpel…

“Look, regardless if you trust me or not, remember the passcode, and in thirty days, I’ll open your cage and let you wreak havoc.” 

“And if it turns out it is a mind game…” Donatello said, just barely audible with his food stuffed cheeks, “I _will_ kill you, and it won’t be quickly.”

Not at all fazed by the poor display of table manners, Dr. Williams nodded, “That sounds fair.” Then reached under his arm and tugged free the folder he’d pulled from his lunch bag. “Though I do still have a question. One I was hoping you could answer.” 

Down to his last few bites of pizza, Donnie found himself more focused on his treat than anything else. “As long as it’s not about where my brothers or friends are.” He mumbled, “Then sure, why not?”

He closed his eyes and bit into the delicious little cheese covered bready delight in his hand, a hum of contentment escaping him as relished the simple act of chewing.

“Does this,” Began Williams, “Look familiar to you?”

Cracking open his eyes, Donnie found himself looking at what appeared to be a print out from an online forum called _‘Mysteries of New York’._ There was a picture smack dab in the middle, a blurry one, but after years of deleting images of his brothers and himself off the internet, Donatello recognized it immediately.

It was of Leonardo, spinning through the air mid swing of his blades, Kraang lasers shooting past him while a Kraang droid launched up from the roof tops, gun in hand, and ready to rip his brother to pieces.

“That’s me.” He lied, remaining cautious just in case Williams was attempting to gather information on his brothers, “We were fighting the Kraang, I don’t remember which time this one was though.” 

Williams’ eyebrows twitched up in surprise. Quickly he put the paper away and pulled out another. “And this?”

Same as the first, the photo was blurry, but it was one Donatello had seen before, and more infuriatingly, one he was certain he had deleted.

It was of him and Raphael, jettisoning across the roof tops with a group of Foot ninja on their tails. “Oh, come _on._ ” He groaned, “I know I deleted that one, both from the internet and the kid’s phone; we didn’t want Sensei to find out. Where the heck did you find it?”

Instead of answering, Williams tucked the paper away and pulled out one more. “Last one.” He said, “Do you recognize this?”

It was out of focus, but still an obvious and very memorable picture of him and his brothers on the gliders he’d invented, flying away from the exploding T.C.R.I. building towards the mother of all Kraang ships that they’d failed to prevent from entering their world. 

“It’s the Technodrome.” Said Donatello, “We had tried to stop the Kraang from entering our world through their interdimensional portal. We managed to blow up the portal and destroy their base, but we weren’t able to stop the Mothership from coming through. It took us a while, but we managed to release all the humans they’d abducted and sink their plans as well as the Technodrome to the bottom of the Atlantic. We almost lost one of my brothers on that mission…”

He looked back at the pizza in his hand and took another bite; focusing on the flavors rather than the devastating loss he had felt when they thought Leo was no more.

“Mission?” Repeated Williams, “Like, as in, you do this often?” 

“I told you before,” Said Donnie sadly, popping the last delicious bit of pizza into his mouth, “I know who and what I am. I’m a ninja…” He whispered.

“I’m the turtle who saved New York alongside my brothers more times than I can count. We battled the Kraang, stopped the Triceratons from destroying the Earth by going back in time to stop them before it even happened. We’ve risked our shells so many times just to protect the people in this city…”

Donatello’s heart sank, a twinge of bitterness wrapping around it with tight unforgiving claws. “And look where it’s gotten me.” He spat, glaring up at Williams, “Caged up like an animal, tortured every single day to the point that I have to turn my back on every moral code my father ever taught me by taking lives, just to buy myself a few hours of respite…” 

Dr. Williams looked anywhere but at Donatello this time, a glimpse of shame flickering across his face, “I know.” He said, before his face hardened, and a new look over took it, “And I plan on changing that.”

Cramming the last bit of his own slice into his mouth, Williams straightened up and faced Donatello. “I promise you, R1-13, I will get you out of here, you and as many mutants as I can.” 

Donnie made a face, but the young human’s conviction didn’t waver. “I swear.” He snapped, “Or I’ll die trying.”

“Thirty days then.” Murmured Donnie, licking his fingers clean, “And I guess we’ll see just how much you mean it.”


	18. Ch. 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ***Warnings***  
> Aggression  
> Drug induced attacks  
> (Bonus chapter 19 will hopefully be uploaded before Christmas)

Blood, it coated every inch of him, sticking to his arms and splattered across his shoulders in thick globs. It was everywhere, slathering his thighs and smeared across his plastron, and from the scratchy feel of it, he had some along his face as well. 

He’d washed it off the best he could, but with the police sirens growing closer and the news crews no doubt zooming in hot pursuit of New York’s most savage story yet, all thanks to Donatello’s anonymous tips, there wasn’t much time for cleanup.

Thirteen and his friends had just barely scrambled from the rooftop where they had staged the bodies when a helicopter flew in overhead and lit up their warning for all to see:

The two men who had captured and sold mutants to those despicable people were dismembered; their limbs scattered in a bloody mess across the roof, while their heads remained perfectly poised, mounted up on spikes above the blood smeared words, _‘You’re next.’_ Ended with a perfect three fingered handprint, specifically put there for the Hunters and Grail to see.

It would make headlines for sure, and send every mutant Hunter into a frenzy, and turn every police officer and frightened human into a watchful eye. The scanners would come alive with tips, the Hunters’ traps would all be found, and Thirteen and his team of survivors would be that much closer to finding the scientists and bringing down everything that those monsters had tried to build. The only concern? Raph, Leo, and Mikey were no doubt out and about searching for Donatello, and whatever had been inside the needle that had sank into Donnie’s thigh was beginning to take effect, preventing him from going out and finding them. 

Actually admitting that he was injured was not something Thirteen took pride in, especially when he knew it meant Nine would instantly be on alert.

The big snake was a brother through and through, and the moment Donatello admitted to having been hit by the dart he’d been clutching, Nine had gone from blood soaked companion to worried family member in seconds. In fact, he almost didn’t allow Donatello to leave, coiling around him and accepting Thirteen’s fury as he threatened to drag him back to their hideout. Even the others were getting in on it, growing protective and determined to keep Donnie safe.

He’d had to lie to them, tell them his symptoms were manageable, but at the time, it really wasn’t that much of a lie. 

At first it was just a bit of blurred vision and a very strong sense of needing to puke, but the more he moved, got his blood pumping, the worse things became. 

They must’ve assumed he wasn’t in his right mind, _shell_ , he would’ve probably thought that too, had it not been for one very important fact; His brothers would die before they stopped searching for him.

They’d be topside for hours, exposed, vulnerable to the hunters’ traps, and now the hunters’ rage… No, he had to go home, drugged up or not. His presence, good or bad, would lure his bros back down to the sewers where they’d be safe, protected …and where Grail wouldn’t be able to touch them…

After a bit of insisting and persuading, Donnie was able convince the bloodied group to bring him down to the sewers. They walked with him a little bit just to be sure he’d be safe, until they reached a point that Donatello knew by heart, and then begrudgingly they left him to find his way.

They almost didn’t, and that alone was a terrifying thought. If his family became aggressive in any way, he knew Nine would stand between them and protect him at any cost. They would all defend Donatello, and shell forbid if his brothers became violent…it would be a massacre.

By the time he said goodbyes his eyes were dilating and contracting at random, blurring his vision to the point of bringing on hallucinations, his temperature was spiking and worst of all, he could feel himself shaking, reacting to the cocktail of shell only knew what had been pumped into his system.

But thankfully these were things he had grown accustom to in the laboratory when they’d used him to test new serums before. Experience taught him his eyes could not be trusted, they would only try to trick his mind into seeing things that weren’t there. He needed to redirect all focus to his sense of hearing, touch, and smell.

“It’ll be ok.” He told himself, clutching the sewer wall that suddenly seemed to be oozing blood. “Just keep moving forward. You know the way.” 

One step after another he moved, feeling his way forward down the long tunnel until the grime slickened cement beneath his feet turned to rough, gritty earth broken up by the cold metal tracks of old forgotten railways. 

Finding his way back to the lair wasn’t the problem; it was getting inside without raising too many questions.

He had an idea, not necessarily the best thought out plan of the century, but at least it was something; He’d decided to go back in through the same vent he’d popped through in the bathroom, sit under the water to rinse what was left of the hunter’s blood from his skin, hopefully before anyone had a chance to see it. From there, he’d make his way out, find Sensei, Karai maybe, and have them send word to the others that he was home and get them back down from the surface. 

He’d take their fury, accept their accusations, and eventually come to terms with whatever decision his family chose to make after learning the truth... 

Donnie had no intention of lying to them this time, not when their lives were on the line. They needed to know to stay away from the surface, to remain hidden and safe underground until the threat could be dealt with. If he was thrown out, he had a place to go, granted yes he’d have to find it, but the chances of finding Nine and the others again were very high; he’d just have to be careful in the meantime… 

The thought of the hunters wasn’t what scared him, _shell_ , even the prospect of being disowned and exiled wasn’t all that frightening anymore after how many times he had imagined it happening…

What Donatello truly feared were his brothers’ words, their hatred of him and what he’d become; He was a monster, he knew that, but to hear it spoken out loud by the ones he loved and had dreamed of loving to keep himself sane was more than he could bear. 

“Shell…” He thought, his heart giving a painful twist, “It’s just a coping mechanism. These feelings aren’t even _real_...right? Ugh, I am so messed up…”

The world spun before his eyes and his stomach lurched, threatening to send him doubling over and hurling across the floor. He clutched the wall, slathered in blood he knew wasn’t there, and inhaled deeply through his nostrils. 

Old Pizza, sewage, iron, gasoline…he was close to home. 

He swiped his hand across the wall, ignoring the illusion of red bubbling up between his fingers: 

It was dry, smelled a little of oil, and he could feel the slight fuzz of moss growing along the bricks cracks; he was just outside of his old lab, and if his calculations were correct then he was on the east side heading north, straight towards the bathroom where the vent would be, all he had to do now was…

“Oh my God. I found him! Guys, he’s over here! I think he’s hurt!”

A woman’s voice stopped him in his tracks.

“Wait!” Yelled a man, “Hang on! Don’t be stupid!”

Donnie turned towards the sounds of footsteps rushing towards him, he completely understood that he was still under the effects of a drug that was targeting his mind as well as sense of sight…but what he saw had him reacting in seconds.

It was Ariel, the red-headed bitch from hell, running towards him with a walkie in hand. Another scientist was stumbling after her, a shock-stick at the ready with thick Kevlar gloves on each arm.

His eyes flashed at the sight of his tormentor. “You.” Thirteen growled.

She was here, they were here, at the lair, at his home!! He was such an idiot, he’d led those monsters straight to his family, _he’d endangered them all!_

Fear and rage spiked through him, sending him spinning on the spot. He snarled and lunged despite the trembling in his limbs as the world swirled around him, his hands out stretched for the neck of that horrible woman. If they had dared touch his family, then he’d make them suffer, starting with _her_ …

He slammed into her with enough force to knock the wind from her lungs, driving the red-head straight down with a satisfying crack of her skull against the filthy ground. His fingers closed around the bitch’s neck in seconds, pouring every ounce of anger and hatred he had into the choking hold. Her tiny throat squished easily in his hands, her eyes going wide as he snarled above her.

Her fingers shot up to grasp at his, surprise filling her face as she gasped for air that would never come, staring up at him as if she hadn’t expected to be attacked. _Imbecilic hag_. He’d crush the life from her, watch her die just like she’d watched him do so many times, all the while casually writing notes on her clipboard like it was nothing more than a tedious chore.

He could feel her pulse slowing, could smell her fear….

“LET HER GO!!”

The sure sound of electricity crackled towards him, the woosh of a white coat following. 

Thirteen lifted one arm on reflex, catching the end of the taser rod in the center of his palm. 

Pain shot through him, his muscles constricting and threatening to convulse as the electricity surged through every inch, but he stood his ground, his gaze locked on the twisted woman, before slowly looking up at the man who had been foolhardy enough to come near.

His grip on the rod tightened; the metal warping in his iron grip.

“Oh man…” Murmured the scientist, his eyes growing wide as Thirteen bent the shock-stick back with a growl rumbling in his throat.

Quick as a flash Thirteen yanked at the pole, sending the uncoordinated man lurching towards him. The scientist stumbled, and hard as he could, Donatello reeled back and then bashed his forehead straight into the witless human’s face.

Stars popped before his eyes, but the human was the one who swayed. One good shove and his would-be captor was down. 

Thirteen spun back to his prey, teeth bared and wild-eyed, ready to kill that witch once and for all, when a soft and gentle hand brushed against his cheek.

_‘Donnie!’_

April’s voice erupted in his mind, his vision suddenly swimming with images and memories:

_-He’s screaming, strapped to a cold table and thrashing against the burning sensation of the circulating bone saw chewing through his plastron. It’s too much, too much- he can’t anymore, he wants to die- WHY WON’T THEY JUST LET HIM DIE?!_

_-He’s leaping across the rooftops with his brothers, their skateboards strapped to their shells. Donnie was both excited and nervous; Sensei would be furious if he knew they’d snuck out. Suddenly Mikey was calling out to him, “Hey Donnie, thanks for the new songs!”_

_-He’s at the Kraang’s mind switching machine, trying to find the right sequence that would return Raphael to his own body while trying to keep Mikey from touching shiny buttons that would probably get them blown up, all while simultaneously attempting to ignore the fact that Casey was INSIDE April._

_-Hot blue flames burst up from the floor and rained down from the ceiling, enveloping C1-04 while Thirteen was helpless to do anything but watch the mutant poodle burn alive…_

_-“You ahr nuhteen …” Ariel was whispering to him, her blue eyes narrowed into slits as the floor beneath his feet came alive with electricity._

_-The man loomed over him, his face shadowed as he pressed a scalpel to Thirteen’s cheek. “I’m going to find your brothers...” He promised, slowly cutting into his flesh, but Thirteen refused to scream, “...And rip them open one by one before your very eyes…”_

_-He ripped the dart from his leg, cursing his slowed reflexes, a slight worry prickling at the back of his mind as he began to run across the roof. Shell, what had he been drugged with this time?_

_‘Donnie!!’_ April’s voice sounded again, frantic and pleading, and suddenly he found himself staring down at the beautiful red-head he had loved, his hands around her pale throat, crushing the life out of, of…

He gasped in realization and released his hold. What had he done?!

Red faced and with tears in her eyes, April’s hands flew to her neck, coughing and choking as she fought to suck in precious air.

“April…” He whispered in horror, his vision shimmering back and forth between the illusion of a furious scientist and his terrified friend, “N-no, I’m so sorry, I, I didn’t mean-”

He didn’t get to finish; something hard slammed out of nowhere, cracking into his side with enough force to drive him down and off of the weakened girl.

His face connected with concrete, fresh blood flowed hot in his mouth as every inch of his already battered body throbbed. A heavy weight crushed him against the ground, pressing his face further against the cold railway floor. Stars speckled his vision, but he was more than aware of a human hand as it wrapped around his wrist.

“Tie it, tie it!” Snapped a voice right above him as his arm was wrenched back.

Donnie stiffened at the feel of cloth wrapped around his wrist and pulled tight, and when another hand gripping his other wrist to wrench it around and do the same, his heart nearly stopped. 

“No!” He screeched, and his fight-or-flight response kicked in.

He bucked against his captor, frantically trying to rip his untied arm from their hold. Whoever they were they had a strong grip, refusing to let go. He couldn’t focus, he couldn’t tell who it was, he just knew that _human_ hands were trying to tie him up, to restrain him, to hold him down!

“No, no, let me go!!” He screeched.

Whoever held him grunted, their grip only tightening as he twisted and thrashed. 

“Just knock’em out!” Snapped another voice over the struggle, and to Donatello it sounded all too similar to the yell of the scientists when he was out of his cage; _“Sedate, sedate!”_

Panic set in like icy claws, digging into his bruised limbs. _‘No, no, please no! Not again!!’_ He bucked and squirmed, desperate to get away, when a thin arm slipped into view and once more he reacted on reflex.

He lunged, his teeth connecting with a human wrist and clamped down around it until the metallic tang of blood other than his own gushed into his mouth.

“Gahh-iissss!!!!!!!” 

The grip around him slackened as the pain filled yell warped into a furious hiss, and he took full advantage of it. 

He scrambled and kicked, grabbing at the iron rail ties for dear life. “Let go, let go!” He begged, and finally he felt himself pop free. “Please, I’m sorry!” He squeaked as he scurried away across the concrete, “I didn’t mean, I-I didn’t know…” 

Donnie found himself a corner and spun around, his carapace clicking against the brick as he wedged himself into it. 

“I’m sorry, I’m so, so sorry…”

“You’re _sorry!?_ ” Boomed a voice, and finally he recognized it. It was Casey, and he was furious. “For which part?! Fricking murdering two people?! Or for trying to choke April to death?!”

“Jones…” Growled the voice of Splinter, but for the first time, Casey didn’t seem to care.

“No way man! Look at him, he’s covered in blood! You all saw the news, heard the scanners.” He snapped, “There were three fingered turtle hand prints all over that blood bath. He just fucking killed someone, hacked their head off and then mounted it on a spike, and then came home and tried to kill April!”

A flicker of annoyance shot through Donnie, his earlier panic and mortification momentarily forgotten.

“We do not make judgments without facts.” Hissed Splinter, “Until then, we will assume innocence until prov-”

“ _Excuse_ me? I did not _hack_ their heads off.” Snapped Donnie indignantly, cutting off his Sensei mid word. “For your information, Jones, I only _assisted_ with the mounting of the dismembered heads. The reason I’m covered in blood is because I needed to help paint the message on the building.”

Silence followed his words, and though he could barely see his family through the fog the drug was causing, he could feel their eyes burning into him.

“You go low, take his knees out.” He heard Karai hiss under her breath, “And I’ll go high. Ready?”

He stiffened, knowing that they were about to pounce and attempt to restrain him again. “W-wait, please.” He stammered, raising his hands in defense, when a weak voice cut through the air, and nearly broke his heart.

“No.”

It was April, choking on her own words as she struggled to speak.

“S-stop.”

“April, you must rest.” Murmured Sensei, but she kept trying.

“N-no. He’s…”

“No way, Red,” snapped Casey, “He’s lost it!”

“He’ss dangerousss, April.” Added Karai with a hiss, “He needss to be locked up before he attacksss again.”

April coughed once more and Donatello cringed, his heart twisting in shame and guilt at what he’d done to her. “I’m sorry.” He whispered, “I’m so, sorry.”

“I think h-he’s been dru-gged!” 

His vision cleared for only a moment, allowing him to make out the fuzzy shapes of those before him. 

Karai was glaring at him a few feet away in between forms, her snake hands gaping with fangs bared, one of them bleeding as they flicked their tongues at him. She looked ready to spring, though thankfully he could read her, she was waiting for Sensei’s order.

Casey however didn’t look willing to wait for anyone, his impatience clear in his snarl, bloody nose, and the hockey stick that he was thunking menacingly into his hand.

“I’m still connected.” April forced out, her words so scratchy from his attack that Donnie just wanted to curl up and die right there. 

He could see her, propped up in Master Splinter’s arms, her hand carefully massaging throat as she watched him.

“He’s s-scared.” She continued, “He didn’t m-mean to-”

“ _He’s_ scared!?” Snapped Casey, nearly dropping his hockey stick, “How the heck do you think those innocent people felt when he mutilated them?!”

“Innocent??” Donnie couldn’t help but repeat, a growl rising in his throat at Jones’ idiocy. He snapped his gaze on the fuzzy shape of the stupid boy and spat, “They weren’t innocent, they weren’t even _people!_ They were the monsters who captured me, who brought me and shell knows how many others to that place. They deserved everything that happened to them!” 

Casey ripped back to Donatello as he spoke, the image of young human slowly warping back into a man holding restraints, his white coat swishing as he took a firm step closer.

_‘It’s just Casey.’_ He told himself, despite the warning growl that rumbled out from his throat on reflex, _‘Don’t hurt them, don’t hurt them!’_

“My son…” 

His father’s voice, stern yet concerned rang through the air, carrying with it a hint of disappointment that might as well have been a fist straight to Donnie’s plastron. 

“I have always warned you of vengeance, for it can do nothing but cause more pain and suffering to everyone around you. You of all your brothers I thought realized this. These choices will only ever lead to disastrous outcomes, ones that you will never be able to take back.”

Vengeance? Donnie tilted his head in the direction of his Sensei’s voice. Was that truly what his father thought this was?

“N-no.” He stammered, “That’s not what, I mean. They’re still after us Sensei! Leo, he failed.”

His heart clenched up at his own words. 

“He failed.” He repeated, and then he shouted, “Leo failed! He didn’t stop them like he said, they’re still out there, still hunting, still torturing, still searching…” His hands balled into shaky fists as the memories of that place began flitting back. The pain, the screaming, the absolute torture, sometimes for no other reason than just because they could… 

“They want me,” He continued, “They want Raph, Leo, and Mikey, and unless I do something then they’re going to continue to hunt us, and every mutant in the world until they’re stopped!”

“And so you would take their lives?” Asked Splinter, “How will that prevent another from taking their place? From pursuing you and your brothers all that more diligently?”

“Fear…” Growled Thirteen, growing impatient, “Fear keeps them away, makes them think twice, and if they’re not afraid they’re angry, and anger makes them sloppy, allows for mistakes, and then I can find out where their main operation is located and destroy it, preventing them from ever hurting anyone again!”

“No, my son.” Breathed Splinter, sounding so disappointed and sad, yet, frustratingly understanding. “This is not you. You, Donatello are a strong and intelligent young ninja, you…”

“How the shell would you know if this is me or not!?” Spat Thirteen over him. “You weren’t there!”

Why wasn’t his Sensei understanding? More disturbingly, why didn’t he seem to care that they were all still in danger? 

“Donatello…”

“No!” Snarled Thirteen, slightly desperate, partly enraged, “Don’t even, because you weren’t. You didn’t see what happened in that place, didn’t witness the horrors man had to offer. Shell, I’ve _died_ , Sensei! I’ve actually flat-lined so many times it’s a miracle I haven’t suffered any brain damage!”

“My son, you are not well.” Came Splinter’s voice again, and the image of the two scientists before him, Karai and Casey, took another step closer. His father didn’t sound upset this time, in fact if anything he sounded almost sad and pleading.

“Please, just come with us, let us help you. When your mind is clear again we can discuss what you have done. Until then-”

“What?!” Donatello snapped, backing further into his corner, “No, y-you need to understand, we’re in danger, all of us! They’ll catch us if we don’t stop them. They’ll torture Mikey, Raph, and Leo just like they did to me, only worse! Grail won’t stop until _he_ is stopped!”

Karai and Casey, still nothing but a shimmering image of two men in white lab coats, slid a little bit closer. “Eazzy now.” Hissed Karai, “Jusst come gently and we won’t need to hurt you…”

Donnie shook his head, his fear spiking despite the fact that he knew it was them. “W-why don’t you care?!” He yelled, “Why aren’t you listening?! They’re the monsters, not me!”

Karai slid closer, and Donnie’s growl intensified. They were going to lunge at him, tie him up, lock him away in a tiny little room, a cage, a cell that he’d never escape from. 

Growing desperate, he quickly checked for any sign of a way out, but Casey, still nothing but an image of a scientist, slipped in the way of the only escape he had.

“They hurt me.” He said, desperate for them to just hear and understand, 

“They strapped me to a table, sliced into me until the muscles were exposed, then they zapped me with electricity, muscle by muscle until I couldn’t scream anymore! They’ve drugged me, they’ve drowned me, they killed and revived me so many times that I literally lost count!”

Karai and Casey slid just a bit closer, a vision of scientists prominent in his mind. His fear turned to panic, and suddenly he was back there, cornered, about to be dragged off for yet another experiment.

“It will be alright, my son.” Whispered Splinter, “Do not fight, you are safe here, you are-”

“I WAS VIVASECTED!” He practically screamed, tears forming in his eyes, “Alive and awake, they called it ‘pain tolerance testing’, and they’ll do it to all of you! They’ll hurt you all and just like he promised, he’ll make me watch! We’re not safe, YOU STUPID OLD RAT! Why don’t you understand!? Why don’t you _care!?_ ”

Suddenly the whole world was upside down, a firm grip around his waist as someone strong grabbed him and hoisted him into the air. He couldn’t see who it was, and that alone was terrifying. 

Eyes wide he began to kick, “No, no!” He yelled in desperation, clawing and flailing to fight off his attacker. His fingers scraped against shell right as two sets of three fingered hands wrapped around his legs and arms. 

“Watch it!” He heard Casey yell, “He tried to kill April, and he admitted to killing those men!”

His legs were snapped together, his arms yanked to his sides, and all Donnie wanted to do was bite and scream.

“Don’t touch me, _please!!_ ” He begged, still wriggling and fighting as his captors began to drag him away. Why had he insisted on coming back? Why hadn’t he gone with Nine and the others? Why wasn’t anyone listening to him?!

“Let go, let go of me!” But his cries continued to fall on deaf, uncaring ears.

“Lock him up.” Were the last words he heard from Casey, “He’s completely lost it.”


	19. Ch. 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ***Warnings***  
> None, this is a bonus chapter, not a torture scene.

_“The police still have no word on suspects at this time…”_

“Let me go!” Screamed Donnie over the sounds of the television, but his captors, his brothers from the feel of it, refused.

_“…a gruesome scene indeed Carla. Whoever did this obviously wanted it to be found, wanted it to be seen…”_

His brothers grunted but didn’t speak, at least not to him. They were grunting and panting with the effort to control him, and every now and then they’d utter words, but only to each other. 

“Hold him, Raph!” Snapped Leo.

Raph growled, “I, _umph_ , am!” 

_“…To those of you just tuning in, we must warn you, the images you are about to see are grisly. Two men have been decapitated and mutilated, the words, ‘You’re next’ written in their own blood, indicating that more murders like these may follow. If you have any information please…”_

The sounds of the TV quickly faded, the world around Donatello swirling as he squirmed in a desperate attempt to escape. “Let go! Don’t touch me!” He yelled.

A door creaked open, and suddenly he felt the hands release, flopping him haphazardly against a tiled floor. He scrambled against it, clawing for purchase until he was able to crawl away.

Frantically he skittered across the tile, his vision all but useless, and bumped into what felt like a corner. He whimpered as he realized he was trapped there, pulling himself in tight against the cold wall. Was he in the shower? 

“Time to chill out!” He heard Raphael growl above him, and his suspicions were confirmed. 

Donnie gasped as ice cold water poured down atop his head, his skin prickling and eyes growing wide as the chilled spray brought with it horrible memories. 

He huddled into himself, his arms covering his face in preparation for a blow. “It’s just my brothers, it’s not them.” He whispered over and over, “It’s just Raph, and Leo, and Mikey. Don’t hurt them…”

Suddenly the water changed, shifting from stabbing cold to a gentle warm. “Not cool, bro!” He heard Mikey snap above him, “Back off him!”

“No way, you saw what he did!” Snarled Raph, “He killed those men, then came home, tried to kill _April_ , attacked the others, and then turned on Sensei! He’s completely lost it!”

Donnie still couldn’t see them, and that alone fueled his fear as his mind conjured up the worst. “I’m sorry,” He whispered, “Please…”

“Raph, Mikey.” Murmured Leo. “Hold him.”

Donnie’s eyes widened. “No, please don’t do that!” He squeaked, peering through his hands for any hint of his brothers. They’d hurt him for sure over this…

Three fingered hands latched onto each of his shoulders, pulling him free from his corner that he’d wedged himself in. The moment he felt himself begin to move however, he resisted, scrambling to return to his corner. 

He could smell the strong agitated scent of Raph over the water as a heavy weight returned atop him crushing him plastron first against the wet tiles. 

“No!” Donnie yelped, and he sucked in his feet and arms, but right as he went to withdraw completely into his shell, someone stopped him, pinning him gently by his neck against the shower floor.

He began to shake, his eyes wide and unfocused as he attempted to calculate where the first blow would come from, when he felt a gentle hand cup his soaked cheek.

Out of instinct Donnie tried to pull away from the grip, but whoever had him by the neck, Raph most likely, only tightened their hold. “Calm down Donnie.” Whispered Leo’s voice, “You’re safe.”

Unable to help it, Donnie flinched regardless of Leo’s promise when he felt a thumb brush against his eye ridge.

“Easy.” Leo whispered again, and this time Donnie felt his brother lift one of his eyelids and hold it open.

Trembling in his brothers’ grip, Donnie swallowed hard and waited, staring up at the swirling nothing before him as the shower water rained down and speckled his face.

“Did you take something?” He heard Leo finally ask, his voice concerned.

“No.” Donnie managed to squeak, “At least, not voluntarily. I never meant to get hit by it, I was sloppy, I’m sorry…”

“Got hit by what?” Asked Leo calmly, and Donnie swore he felt something swish past his face.

Donatello swallowed, testing his brothers’ hold, but neither of them were letting go. 

“A dart.” He admitted, “From a Hunter’s trap. It appears to be stimulating fear receptors, I…I didn’t know it was April, or Casey. Please believe me, I-”

“Donnie.” Interrupted Leo, still sounding concerned, and Donnie swore once more that something waved close near his face. “Are you… blind?” 

“What?” Murmured Raph, right as Donnie answered.

“I-I don’t know.” He admitted, his voice shaking almost as badly as the rest of him. “But, I know I can’t see you. I, I can’t see _any_ of you.”

“Leo?” Raph sounded confused and bit fearful.

Donnie felt Leo’s hand leave him. “Let him go.” And just like that, Donnie felt the weight leave and then Raph’s grip around his neck vanished. 

The second he was free he sucked his head into his shell, hiding from any other attempts to restrain him, or, or, _shell_ only knew what…

“Leo, I didn’t, I mean, how did you know?” He just barely heard Raph whisper.

“His eyes.” Leo answered, just as quietly, “His pupils are twitching, and he’s, well, _look_ at him. Does that seem like Donnie to you?”

Donnie tensed as he felt a hand rub gently along his carapace. “It’s ok, D.” Murmured Mikey’s voice, close and gentle, “I know you didn’t mean to hurt April, you’d _never_ do that.”

“He hasn’t seemed like Donnie since we brought him home.” Hissed Raph, “Shell Leo, half the time I expect him to try and kill us in our sleep or take a knife to himself again! I mean, you heard him yelling at Splinter back there. With the shit he’s been through, would you really be surprised if he tried to?”

Leo was silent for a moment, before he sighed and Donnie heard the bathroom door creak open. “Go make sure April’s alright, and ask Sensei for something to help Donnie get through whatever’s in his system.”

“Leo, I didn’t know.” Whispered Raph, and this time he sounded almost pleading. “All I knew was that he killed those people, tried to kill April-”

“I know…” Leo Interrupted, “We’ll talk about this later, Raph.” And just like that, the bathroom door creaked again, and Donnie couldn’t hear Raph anymore.

The water thrummed against his shell as he listened to Leo walk back across the tile, a small pool of it collecting by Donnie’s chin just at the edge of his plastron. Mikey was still at his side, he could feel his hand still rubbing gently along his carapace, and after a moment he heard Leo plop down beside him on the shower floor.

“You can come out if you want.” Said Mikey gently, “As long as you don’t attack us we won’t try to hold you down again. You can just sit right here in the shower. You like the shower, right?”

Donatello felt a soft touch trying to probe inside for his arm, and he tucked into his shell even tighter. 

“The drug, it’s, it’s like a nightmare, right? The kind where you know it’s just a dream but you can’t wake yourself up?”

When Donnie didn’t answer, Mikey tried again.

“Well, when I think I’m ‘gonna have one, or if I know that if I fall asleep again that the nightmare will be waiting for me, I find Raph or Leo, and fall asleep with them holding my hand. They just give it a squeeze, and, I ‘dunno, I think feeling something real is what helps make the bad dreams go away. So…” Mikey seemed to hesitate, stopping for a moment to take a deep breath before he whispered, “If you want, you can hold my hand, and I can help make your nightmares go away.”

Donnie’s heart, already bruised and battered from earlier, was crushed beneath his baby brother’s words.

It would take a lot to make his _‘nightmares’_ disappear, but the sentiment was sweet, and besides, feeling something real, tangible, and in his hand might be helpful.

Ever so slowly, he eased out a hand from inside his shell, uncurled his fist, and immediately felt three thick fingers wrap into it. 

“There you go.” He heard Leo say, though he didn’t know if the praise was meant for him or Mikey. 

They stayed like that, quietly sitting beneath the shower’s spray, Mikey’s hand firmly gripping Donnie’s. It was quiet, peaceful even, with the gentle splatter of water hitting puddles being the only thing he could hear.

He waited for a few more moments, but eventually, Donnie plucked up the courage to emerge. One by one he slowly stretched his limbs from his shell, Mikey’s grip never leaving his, and gently popped his head out.

He could still barely make out anything, though this time there was at least a flicker of green and a swish of white every now and then. 

Leo helped him sit upright, his hands never leaving Donatello as he slowly inched up behind him, tucking his body in close behind Donnie while Mikey shifted Donnie’s legs out of the way to better hug him from the front. 

Donnie realized what they were doing and almost stopped them, his fear of being held or restrained kicking in as they sandwiched him between them, only to hesitate, allowing Mikey to wrap his free arm in around him, as soft lips brushed his forehead.

“Don’t worry.” He heard Mikey whisper, “We all still love you. Even Raph, he’s just over protective and worries a lot, that’s all.”

Something soft brushed against his free arm and Donnie flinched, relaxing as he recognized the soapy feel of a washcloth moving up and down in slow swipes along his arm.

“I didn’t mean to hurt April.” He said sadly, tightening his grip on Mikey’s hand, “I, I could see, but I couldn’t. I thought they were scientists, come to capture you, I had to stop them. Then April broke through the illusion, and I realized what I’d done.”

He cringed and bowed his head in shame, feeling it connect with the crook of Mikey’s neck, but the youngest didn’t pull away.

“Is that why you killed those people?” Murmured Mikey, “Did you think they were someone else, or…?”

“No.” Growled Donatello, a lot colder than he had intended, and the washcloth froze. “I _meant_ to kill them. They were the men who first captured me and brought me to that hell.”

“So, it was revenge then?” Asked Leo flatly, “You killed them to make a point to other hunters.”

“No.” Snapped Donnie, “And yes, I suppose. But, I did it to protect you, _all_ of you. Something that Sensei didn’t understand, or, didn’t want to understand…”

The cloth began to move again, gliding up and down his arm and then shoulder to no doubt scrub the stubborn bits of blood away.

“They’re gone, Donnie.” Said Leo gently, “We blew up the building, we-”

“Five hundred thousand dollars per turtle brought back alive,” Interrupted Donnie, “You didn’t stop them, you just slowed them down. Now they’re hunting all of us.”

“Wow.” Muttered Mikey, “We’re worth a lot of money, like we’re a collectible set or something.”

“He has numbers saved for you.” Said Donnie, shivering as he remembered what Grail had promised him. “R1-14, 15, and 16. He plans on capturing all of us, torturing you one by one, all in front of me so I can hear you scream and beg for mercy.”

His chin quivered, his whole body shaking, and he gripped Mikey’s hand tighter. 

“Please, _please_ don’t go to the surface anymore, don’t let them catch you.” He begged, “Believe me, it’s not revenge that I’m after, I just want to stop them, to keep you all from going through what I did.”

Silence followed his words, the washcloth scrubbing gently at Donatello’s arm, slowly moving up until it slid down along his neck and collarbone. Donnie flinched from it on reflex, but didn’t try to stop it, allowing Leo to wash him despite his unease.

“I believe you.” Whispered Leo after a moment, “Or, I believe that you believe it.”

Donnie tensed, immediately alarmed, for if neither his father, or Leonardo believed that the scientists were back, then the family would remain in danger, they’d make mistakes, they’d…

“And by that.” Added Leo, “I mean that you’re not exactly thinking clearly, Donnie. Until you’re better, no one will go topside, we’ll go on lockdown, and once whatever’s in your system is out, we’ll talk about this again in detail. Alright?”

Well, that wasn’t as awful as Donatello had first assumed, in fact, it was quite logical. Slowly he relaxed between his brothers, nodding to show he understood.

Leo seemed pleased, for the scrubbing went from gentle strokes to a vigorous scrub along the groove of his neck and plastron. 

“You know.” Said Leo quietly, “That’s all Sensei wanted before. It wasn’t that he wasn’t listening or didn’t understand. He just, well.” Leonardo sighed, and Donnie felt the cloth shift across the back of his neck to the other side. “He saw the same thing we did. You cowering against the wall, covered in blood, possibly injured, and raving like a mad turtle. He just wanted to calm you down long enough for us to regain control of the situation and make sure that you weren’t going to hurt yourself or anyone else. We didn’t know what was happening, Donnie.”

Closing his eyes, Donnie buried his face in the crook of his little brother’s neck. It was wet but warm, a faint pulse beating against his cheek, and if it hadn’t been for the shame that burned through him, he would’ve blushed at being this close. “He must hate me.” He whispered, “Shell. How can either of you stand to be near me after this?”

“He doesn’t hate you.” Sighed Leo, now scrubbing at Donnie’s other shoulder and then arm. “And neither do we. You should talk to him, Donnie, hear it from him, but I know he loves you, just as much if not more than we do.” Leo paused as he reached the stick-on scar treatments that Donnie had put over his mutilated numbers, but didn’t question it, peeling them off instead and scrubbing at the scared-up patch. “And you know how much we love, and are willing to love you if you want, Donnie.”

Refusing to budge from Mikey’s neck, Donnie took a deep shaky breath and did his best to fight back the urge to cry.

“Yeah, bro.” He heard Mikey whisper, nuzzling into the top of his head, “We’ll always love you, no matter what. Even Raph.”

He didn’t say anything after that, allowing Leo to continue to scrub and wash the blood from his body like he was some kind of child. Mikey stayed clinging to his hand the entire time, keeping Donnie close while Leo worked. 

Once Leonardo was done, Donnie half expected them to turn off the water and usher him out of the bathroom and attempt to force him into one of the bedrooms where they could lock the door. Instead, Leo wrapped his arms in close around Donnie and rested his head against his brother’s carapace, right there, under the shower’s warm spray, without any sign of wanting to get up or move.

Mikey stayed right where he was too, his hand wrapped up tight in Donatello’s, while his free arm hung on tight to the edge of Donnie’s carapace, as though to keep him close.

“Hey, Donnie?” Asked Mikey after a long while, “Can I ask you a question?”

Donnie nodded against his neck, but otherwise didn’t speak.

“Ok. Um.” Murmured his little brother, almost nervously, “what’s a, ‘vivisection’?”

Donatello tensed, his eyes snapping open and swallowed hard. 

“It’s…” He began, but found his voice practically dying in his throat as an image of them dropping the saw down to cut through his plastron entered his mind, “I-I don’t want to talk about it.”

“I think you need to…” Whispered Leo, “Just a little bit, maybe start with just what it is. Then when you’re better, we can talk some more about it. What do you think, Donatello?”

He shivered, but nodded nonetheless and snapped his eyes closed, trying to blot out the memories of pain, screaming, and breaking bone. “It’s the exploration of a living being’s internal workings. Basically, when they cut you open alive, to see how your organs work. Only, I was awake for the entire…” He stopped and shivered, his own screams filling his mind as he remembered the sound of his own ribcage cracking open. “They didn’t use drugs, wanted to see how long I’d stay conscious…” 

“I…” He choked. “I know what my own insides look like.” 

Mikey’s grip tightened, and with it, Donnie felt the tears he’d been fighting begin to escape. 

He hugged his little brother and hid the best he could, wanting nothing more than to curl up and stay between the two of them forever. He shuddered and hiccuped. “I’m sorry.” He sobbed stupidly, “I swear I fought them, I just-”

“Easy Donnie.” Murmured a new voice, one so sudden Donnie’s eyes shot open and he nearly sucked back into his shell. It was Raph, he’d somehow entered the bathroom without making a sound. Just one of the many, nearly forgotten joys, of sharing a roof with ninjas. Thank shell he recognized his brother’s voice before he embarrassed himself any further than he already had.

“You’ve got nothing to be sorry over.” Continued Raph, so gently it was almost unnerving to hear, “I’m sure you gave them hell, bro. Now, here, drink this. It’ll help.”

Donnie stiffened, still unable to see his brothers let alone whatever it was being offered to him.

Raph must’ve realized his mistake, for he hesitated. “Uh, I mean, _here._ ” 

Fingers brushed against Donatello’s free wrist and he recoiled, instinctually pulling away from the touch. 

“It’s ok, Donnie.” Whispered Mikey, and the fingers returned, gingerly prying Donatello’s hand free from Mikey’s side. A warm, what felt like a mug was pressed into his palm, and then gently coaxed up towards his face.

Donnie could hear the shower drops plopping into the mug in his hand, the smooth ceramic quickly becoming slicked.

“Sensei said it might put you to sleep, but that it’ll definitely calm your mind and give you a dreamless night.” Came Raph’s voice again, “We’re ‘gonna pull a mattress out and drag it into the Livingroom so we can all stay with you. If you want, I mean.” 

Sniffling back tears, Donnie leaned into where he thought the mug was, and cautiously sniffed at it. 

A whiff of earthy scents filled his nose, none of them able to be identified other than as a familiar scent of tea he occasionally smelled wafting from his father’s room.

_‘Don’t trust it…’_ A tiny voice whispered, _‘What if it’s drugged?’_

He clutched his brother tighter, and felt Mikey’s grip around his hand do the same.

“It’s safe.” Promised little Mikey, “I swear. Sensei used to make it for me all the time when we were little.”

Donnie contemplated it for a moment, only to sigh and lift the mug closer to his lips. So what if it was drugged? He was immune to most sedatives now, and besides, it would be nice to sleep, regardless of what happened afterwards… Maybe he’d wake up surrounded by his brothers, or maybe he’d wake up chained to the wall and locked in a room; who knew?

“Do you want me to try it first?” Offered Leo, “I’ll prove it’s safe.”

Donnie however shook his head, took a deep breath, and gulped back the warm liquid.

“Woah, hey, take it easy!” Yelped Raph as Donnie sucked down half the mug in only three gulps.

“He does that.” Donnie heard Leo whisper, “Just let him have it and be grateful he’s accepted it.”

Two more big gulps and the mug was empty, the only liquid left being the droplets from the shower hitting the inside of the mug. 

“There.” He muttered, licking his lips, “It’s empty. Doubt it’ll work, they drugged me so many times that I’d be surprised if anything affects me anymore.”

“Well,” said Raph uneasily, “He said you were supposed to _sip_ at it, ‘cuz it was pretty potent. So, uh, I think we’ll know real quick if it works or not.”

Donnie rolled his eyes, about to lean over and set the mug down, when he felt the soft ceramic suddenly slip between his fingers. It never smashed against the tile, so he could only assume that someone caught it. Another benefit of a family with ninja reflexes.

“Wh-what?” He mumbled, and that’s when he realized his speech was beginning to slur. “Well, would you look at that…”

He still couldn’t really see, but he could feel the room spin, and he gripped onto anything he could to fight to remain upright.

“Leo!” He heard Raph warn, and the hands around Donnie’s plastron tightened. 

“I got him.” Answered Leo.

Down Donnie went, held in his brother’s arms with his head cushioned in a rough palm that smelled of Raph. Their words mushed into a whirl of white noise, and before he realized it, the world around him quickly faded away into a gentle dreamless nothing.

It wouldn’t be until well into the next day that Donnie would wake, finding himself nestled in a heap of pillows and blankets in the middle of the Livingroom, his body freshly bandaged with all three of his brothers huddled around him, their arms wrapping him and each other up in a warm embrace that he'd only ever dreamed of. It would be then that he’d break, that he’d cling to them and cry, and it would be then, only then, that he’d hear them and actually understand when they whispered to him, soothing his tears away with the words, “I love you, and always will.”


	20. Ch. 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ***WARNINGS***  
> Language, pain, suffering, torture, vivisection and just a whole lot of bad ju-ju, you have been warned. Read at your own risk.  
> If you can actually make it through the entire chapter, comment, I'd like to give you a gold star.

There was no escaping this time, Dr. Asher made sure of that…

He sent the men in Kevlar to corner him, six of them to be exact, and they had only one visible weakness; their slightly exposed necks, and even then at best all R1-13 could do was maybe snap one of them before the humans overpowered him with sheer numbers. 

As it turned out, he wasn’t able to stop any of them, wasn’t able to do much of anything other than thrash and snarl as they transferred him over and tethered him down to that miserable examination table that always meant torture.

Thirteen continued to test and pull against the binds despite how bleak the situation truly was, his carapace arching off the steel table he’d been strapped to as he struggled to get free.

Hands held him, their grabby fingers forcing him still, only this time, instead of stretching the final restraint across his shoulders to keep him down, they pulled out something that looked like a cross between a hook and a clamp from beneath the table and clipped its biting ends into the edges of his shell. Once attached, they tightened and pulled; snapping him down atop the table until he couldn’t budge an inch. 

He roared, his teeth snapping at anything that came too close, yet still someone managed to grab onto his forehead and force him into one final restraint, something vice-like that kept his head still and prevented him from any further movement.

Teeth bared, Thirteen could only watch as the scientists moved in, the men in the thick brown Kevlar suits stepping back as Dr. Asher, the Bitch, Eric, and two others he didn’t recognize, stepped into view above him.

“Excellent!” Said Asher as he loomed over R1-13, a perfect scar now sitting proudly across his nose and left cheek from the last time Thirteen had escaped and tried to kill him. “No deaths today, we’re doing well already.” 

“Fuck you.” Hissed Thirteen, “When I get out of this, I’ll show-”

Quick as a flash, the red-head from hell darted forward, slipping something soft between his teeth. He bit it on reflex, hoping it was a finger or maybe if he was lucky a wrist, but all he tasted was rubber and cloth.

“Phew.” He heard her sigh as he struggled to spit the long round object from between his teeth. “I was w _oh_ ried we would not get da gag in dis time. R1-13 neahrly sevahrd Gerdau’s fingah da last time we tried.”

Thirteen huffed as he realized it had somehow been secured to his head restraint, and growled through the gag, his gaze snapping from the Bitch to Asher, who was still smiling away. 

“Well then, good job, Miss Nowak.” He praised, “We don’t need our most promising specimen to break any teeth or bite off its tongue, now do we?” 

R1-13 growled at him again as the man pulled away, moving somewhere out of view while the other scientists moved in around the table, snapping on latex gloves and pulling on blue face masks and clear safety glasses.

“Heart rate is good to go, Doctor” Came a new voice, “Adrenaline boosters at the ready.”

“Let’s see how long we can go without them.” Hummed Asher, and he shifted back into view, all gloved up and ready with a…a… _WAS THAT A SAW?!_

Sweet Mother of Mutation, there was a _saw_ in his hand, an electric motor operated circular bone-saw to be exact. 

His heart began to pound, his jaw tightening as the reality of the situation started to sink in; He’d had nightmares of a scenario just like this many times as a child, but he never thought- This couldn’t _actually_ be happening- Didn’t they just say he was their most promising specimen? That meant they needed him, right? Surely they weren’t going to use that on him?! This was just another one of their mind games, _right??_

“Heart rate’s increasing.” Came that voice again, but all Dr. Asher did was chuckle and click on the blade.

The machine whirred to life in his hand, sending Thirteen’s heart sky rocketing into his throat. “Let’s get started then, shall we?” 

_‘No, no no…’_ Donnie thought, his eyes widening in gut wrenching horror as Asher leaned forward, the whirling blade looming closer and closer. _‘This, isn’t, happening. This, isn’t-’_

The saw came down and connected with the top center of his plastron, scoring through the scute in simple seconds that to him felt like an eternity, the smell of burning shell and blood filling his nose. He screeched like a wounded beast as it cleaved through him, his fists clenched, his muscles convulsing beneath the restraints as the saw kept going, burning and biting inch by inch through his plastron like it was made of particle-board, setting every nerve on fire. 

His vision erupted with white stars as the saw moved back up and chewed down past the keratin scutes and cut into bone, his animalistic screams filling the air until they blended with the trilling of the saw. All thought was driven from his mind save for one; He wanted to die, for it all to end, why wouldn’t they just _let him die?!_

Finally, the blade stopped, but the pain did not. It pulsed throughout him like a living thing, dulled by the adrenaline he could feel pumping furiously through his system. He was panting ragged breaths through the saliva dampened cloth of the gag, the rubber now sporting permanent indents of his teeth, and his reddened eyes bugged wide as the stared up at the mirror adhered to the ceiling overhead. 

It was difficult to identify what he was seeing; the stars had faded but his vision was now blurred with tears. The panicked haze still hadn’t lifted from his brain, but a nagging voice in the back of his mind made him believe that he should recognize everything he laid eyes on in the reflection. 

Surgical gowned humans were sponging away bits of dust from his plastron, washing it and the long cut the saw had created.

He watched as they plucked up a metal object from an adjacent table, and hovered it over him with muffled words that he could barely discern;

_“Incision...”_

_“...scalpel.”_

_“…Rib-spreader.”_

He twitched when he saw them lower the metallic device over him, and as he felt them slide its cool ends into the edges of the cut they had made, the haze lifted and he was able to process exactly what was about to happen.

 _‘No…’_ Absolute terror consumed him as the sharp sting of uncaring metal dug into his wound, and then-

CR-A-A-A-CK!

His throat constricted, silencing any attempt at scream as his sternum split and broke apart. Humans came in with scalpels to slice away at the flesh where it met scutes, and large shear like scissors to cut through the thicker bits of cartilage that once connected his ribs to his collarbone, making his stomach twist and threaten to rebel with every sickening crunch and snap. 

Donatello shuddered, a seeping cold gripping at his face and limbs, his mind starting to go numb as he simply watched his body being pried apart before his very eyes.

One of the humans suddenly grabbed hold of his head, blocking his view and forced a tube through one of his nostrils until he nearly choked. 

His attention was torn between the feeling of scientists probing inside his open torso- raw and throbbing, like a fingernail that’d been torn clean off, and the gagging sensation of having a tube shoved down his throat, deep into his lungs, forcing him to breathe…no, who was he trying to fool? They just wanted him to remain conscious, to watch them dig around his innards for no other purpose than their own twisted ‘scientific curiosity’. 

A low keening sound was coming from somewhere, off in the distance maybe, but he was sure it wasn’t coming from him; he couldn’t possibly still be screaming, could he?

A fresh wave of oxygen flowed into him, perking him up enough to clear his vision and center his thought. The scientist above him moved, shifting just enough to reveal the mirror above, and what Donatello saw nearly made his heart stop. 

He was staring at himself, his plastron split down the middle and pulled apart like flaps of a cardboard box to reveal his insides, the different shades of pink and red shifting as his organs, exposed to the air, continued to perform their basic functions. His thundering heart, his heaving lungs, his twisting intestines all still working as the humans dug their repulsive hands inside him, shifted his liver, measured a kidney and, and…were those his _testicles_ they were holding up?!

His eyes rolled at the sight, the world beneath him dropping as everything spun. Darkness spiraled in at the edges of his vision and he felt himself go limp.

It was too much. He was _done_ , and if he died right then and there, shell, he wouldn’t care, it would be a blessing at this point…

 

After a while, Donatello’s eyes cracked back open, hoping he’d see the same empty void that greeted him when he drowned. Instead, color appeared on the other side, almost blindingly bright, and it hurt… everything just _hurt_... like the entirety of his being had been reduced to one giant stabbing ache.

He blinked a few times, the world around him focusing into shapes he recognized. He was on his carapace, laying in his cage on straw, with something soft beneath him that felt almost like pillows, maybe even a mattress of some kind.

 _‘Was it a dream then?’_ He wondered, _‘Am I just recovering from one of their electro-shock experiments? Or maybe hallucinogenics?’_

Bracing an arm against the floor, Donnie went to move, only to instantly regret it.

His cried out, his eyes snapping shut as pain like no other seared through him.

“Eazzy!” He heard a familiar voice, filled with worry, hiss just above him, “Jussst be sstill, my friend.”

But Donnie couldn’t be still, he _had_ to see, had to know what was happening.

Gritting his teeth, Donatello forced through the agony of what felt like a thousand knives digging and twisting throughout every inch, and lifted a shaky hand, his neck straining to hold his head upright in his attempt to see.

His vision blurred again for only a moment as he fought through the pain, struggling to lean up just enough to find the cause, and when his gaze focused he found it, and wished that he hadn’t.

Long metal pins stuck out from his plastron that had been covered in a thick layer of creamy white gauze. The faint odor of iodine wafting up to his nose.

“No…” He whimpered, his trembling fingers hovering over one of the pins, “Please no, please no, no, _no_. Don’t tell me I was, was…”

“Disssected, yesss.” Answered his friend, and for a split second Donatello found himself more annoyed then in pain.

“Dissection means _dead_.” He gasped, and he flopped back against the straw with a groan. “I was _vivisected_ ; I was opened alive, awake, conscious, and, and- _shell_ …”

His voice cracked with a pitiful squeak, his heart hammering so hard he was almost afraid it was going to crack open his plastron all over again and burst free from his chest. Oh shell, _WHY_ did he just imagine that?!

Donnie shivered and shook against the straw, his teeth beginning to chatter- he knew the chill was all in his head, an emotional reaction to the physical trauma and the knowledge of what had happened to him. He needed to calm down before he went into shock, he knew that, but that knowledge didn’t stop him from feeling vulnerable, defenseless, and, as Raph would say, pathetic. 

Sewer apples, he wanted to cry and he wasn’t sure he’d be able to stop once he started…

“It’sss going to be alright.” Hissed his friend again, “Jussst sstay sstill. Don’t move, and when they come, don’t fight them. Let them take you, my friend.”

“No…” He choked out, the very act of expanding his lungs to speak sending shockwaves through his system. “They’ll h-hurt me again.”

“Not thisss time.” Hissed Nine, “If it hadn’t been for our new cage-mate, C1-05 and his dramatic arrival interrupting their work, you would’ve been put sstraight into the healing chamber. Trusst me.”

Still shivering, Donnie craned his head towards the comforting sound of Nine’s voice, and found him coiled as tight against the glass beside him as he could get.

Those four red eyes Donnie had grown accustom to blinked sympathetically back at him. “He wazz apparently a ssurprizze arrival, they weren’t prepared. Sso they pinned and taped you back together and put you in here while they sset him and hisss cage up. He fainted when he ssaw what they’d done to you, which thankfully ssped thingsss along a bit. They’re preparing the healing tank azz we sspeak. Sso when they come,” He said, his voice growing firm, “Let, them, take, you.”

Suddenly Nine stiffened, his head perking up towards the entrance to the lab, his forked tongue flicking out to scent out and confirm what he was hearing. 

“Here they come.” He whispered.

Donatello tensed, his eyes widening. “No!” But he couldn’t move, every muscle had cramped up and refused to obey him.

He heard his cage door slide open, heard the footsteps as humans came in.

“No, no, stay back!” He whimpered.

“Shh, it’ll be alright.” Nine promised, “Jussst don’t fight them, not thiss time, my brother, or they will leave you here to ssssuffer, pleazze lissten!”

Donnie barely heard him as the scientists came into view, wheeling a cart that sent fear rippling through his system that was worse than any pain. 

“No,” He begged uselessly, one arm finally rising to feebly bat at the approaching hands, “Don’t touch me, stay away, _stay back!_ ” But he was too weak, and they grabbed him regardless, unusually gentle as they lifted him from his nest.

“No, _ahhhh_ , please stop!” His vision blurred with tears as he cried out in both agony and terror, his body screaming more than his lungs as fresh pain radiated from the pull at his incisions every time they shifted him into a new position. 

They strapped him to the flat surface of the cart, but loosely, the cold steel lined with warm towels to wedge him in place. 

He cried out again, his whole body shuddering with each agonizing breath, but this time he didn’t beg, not to them, at least;

“Leo, Leo where _are_ you?” He sobbed, unsure if he was thinking the words or actually saying them as the scientists wheeled him away, “Raph, Mikey, why haven’t you found me? Why, _why!?_ Master Splinter, please…”

Every bump and rattle of the castor wheels on tile felt like a hot poker being stabbed into his gut, every sharp turn around the corner of another non-distinct hallway in the maze of hallways turned his gut into a fulcrum for that hot poker to lever and pry his plastron open again. He barely paid attention to where they were bringing him, his sole focus on trying to block out the sporadic pangs pulsating through him.

Finally, the men stopped, and hands were on him once more. He flinched from them, trying to pull away, but their grip only tightened. Someone grabbed his face and forced open his mouth, keeping it that way until a thick opaque tube could be inserted. He felt it slide down his throat unhindered, his gag reflex practically non-existent after how many times he’d endured intubation already, and even felt when it stopped deep down in his stomach. Two more, smaller, tubes were inserted, stuffed up and into his nostrils one by one and down his throat until a wave of fresh air filled his lungs.

He trembled beneath their touches, and barely had enough strength to protest as he felt them slip their gloved fingers into his slit and pull out his penis.

 _‘No, please, not now…’_ He cringed internally; any attempts at ejaculation would be nothing but sheer torture. He nearly sobbed for joy when he saw them pull out a catheter instead. He’d never been so relieved to see a urinary drainage tube in his life!

The thin plastic burned as it slid deep into his urethra, burrowing down to his bladder where it came to rest. Someone else grabbed his tail just then, gently shifting it to expose his anus. 

His tail curled on instinct as he felt something press against the puckered entrance, a long slicked tube with a thin end that traveled up and in, shoved unceremoniously past the tight ring of muscles that lined his rectum. 

“Hook it up.” He heard someone call, and more of those awful hands appeared.

Donnie flinched and instantly regretted it, the spikes of pain only driving into him further at the sudden movement. The hands closed around him, an all too familiar sensation that he had grown to dread.

 _‘Just kill me…’_ He thought as they lifted him, his protests muffled by the tubes. _‘Just let me die already!’_ but of course they didn’t. Instead they carried him, his gaze blurred from tears he had forgotten were even there, too unfocused to make out what they were doing. 

He felt them prop him up against something that sounded like glass as his carapace clicked against it, the angle more than unbearable as it forced his plastron to bend, felt them shift his arms and legs in around him, and then felt the unmistakable sting of needles being forced in under his skin and taped in place. Three on his left arm, four on his right, one stuck into his neck, while they inserted at least two, maybe three into each leg; he honestly wasn’t sure, as he was starting to lose feeling in his legs- something he felt extremely grateful for.

Sucking in shaky breaths, Donatello slowly looked up, moisture still leaking from the edges of his eyes, in time to see them sliding what looked like an oxygen mask down the tubes still in his nose and throat. They slid it snuggly over his nose and mouth to form an airtight seal, then strapped it on tight to keep it in position.

“All set, Docktah.” Came Ariel’s voice, and the person who had strapped the mask to his face stepped back, revealing a clear image for the very first time in, well, Donatello couldn’t remember how long anymore.

A glass door was sliding shut, sealing him inside a large cylindrical tank of some kind, his ragged breath echoing back at him and confirming he was completely encased. The tubes and wires were all attached to the ceiling, a thick black top that if he had been in better condition, would’ve studied more. 

A gurgling sound came next, and he barely had time to register what followed. 

Maybe he blacked out for a moment, or maybe he was so delusional from the pain and exhaustion that he just missed what happened. But one moment he was leaning propped against the glass, the next, he was being lifted from the floor as a thick green liquid oozed rapidly up around him and filled the tank, suspending him almost lifelessly as if he were weightless. It didn’t burn his skin, didn’t bother his eyes, and if anything, it felt…. oddly soothing.

He didn’t move, he couldn’t, he was too weak to even try, too tired to even attempt to figure out what he was floating in, why, or even how it had come to be surrounding him. Instead, Donnie simply watched the scientists through hooded eyes, the pain still there but noticeably less than before when he’d been propped against the glass, and found them, and the red-head, Ariel, calmly observing him with clipboards in hand.

Dr. Asher stepped forward and approached the tank Donatello had found himself in, clicking something on what he could only assume was a computer screen.

A hissing sound alerted him to the gas rushing through the tubes in his nose. A sedative, he realized as he felt his eyelids grow heavy.

He fought it for a moment out of fear, his hands twitching a little in the direction of the breathing tubes, but common sense won out, and his eyes slowly rolled back into his head. Darkness overtook him, stealing him away into a deep, dreamless, and painless sleep, until there was literally, absolutely nothing…


	21. Ch. 21

After he woke up that day, tangled in his brothers’ legs and arms out in the open, free from walls and any fear of being caged just as they had promised, everything became different. Literally, everything was different. His brothers rarely left his side; bathroom breaks, showers, you name it. Even when he slept, two brothers would snuggle with him while the third remained awake. 

Always close, always watching, making sure he wouldn’t run off again and kill…

It was fifty-fifty whether or not his family believed him about the scientists and hunters, especially since they didn’t appear too keen on returning to the surface anytime soon. At least that was a plus, having his brothers always around meant they were safe.

Karai and her lover Shinigami stayed close as well, his father even coming out into the living room for morning, afternoon, and evening tea with Leo, April, and surprisingly, Casey. His father offered him to join them every time, neither pushing or insisting that they talk while he did, but after the last cup of tea having knocked Donnie out cold in mere seconds, he was a bit hesitant to accept anything from him, not to mention April was there, and he could barely _look_ at her, let alone stand to be in her presence.

Master Splinter had tried to come and speak to him once after he refused the tea one too many times, offering him a cup of Mr. Murakami’s delicious pizza soup instead as a type of peace offering; but…Donatello, he wasn’t ready to talk, not to his father, not by a long shot.

Then there was the freezer incident; apparently it broke at some point, so Mikey took it upon himself to drag an old chest freezer into the lair to save his pet, and set it up with a few extension cords right smack in the center of the Livingroom. Donnie had offered to fix the freezer so long as someone fetched his tools from the lab, but for some reason they refused, actually _refused!_ They insisted that if he wanted to fix the freezer then he had to go and get his tools himself. That settled that then, they’d all have to suffer. Like hell if he was setting foot in that replica of a torture chamber.

So, day after day, he’d be forced to watch the freezer, all the while listening to Ice-cream Kitty meow and meow when Mikey wasn’t there, while she scrabbled desperately at its frozen sides. Very quickly he grew tired of listening to her, for all it did was remind him of his old cage and solitary suffering.

He planned out an hourly play schedule, as well as quarterly breathing schedule where he’d open up the lid and allow the poor mutated cat to get a glimpse of light and turtle interaction; it was good for the mind, body, and spirit, after all. There were also daily whipped cream baths which Mikey insisted on helping with, and a small side project Donnie had decided to do, where an hour every day he designated time to building her and ice-cube cat house in the corner of her freezer so she could climb and hide throughout her new home. The attention was something she needed, and it served well as a distraction from April and Casey’s constant visits, as well as the murders that kept popping up on the news.

_“Six more deaths have just been confirmed.”_ Said the anchor man, his face a few shades paler than when he’d first started talking. _“All men, found in the same condition as the first two murders from last week. The words, ‘No Escape’ scrawled in their own blood…”_

“Maybe we should change the channel…” Murmured Mikey from beside him, but all Donatello did was shake his head.

“No.” He said softly, rearranging a few half melted ice cubes for Ice-cream kitty’s ladder to better stabilize it, “Leave it on.”

He wanted to hear what his friends had been up to, discover who was dead, and study the images shown as closely as he could for any sign of a message for him. It would be something Nine would do, and if Donnie turned it off, there was a chance he would miss an important clue. Besides, he could get away with telling Mikey ‘no’ and having him actually listen. If Raph and Leo were there instead of meditating with Sensei, the news certainly wouldn’t be on right now.

_“There has been no word on the serial killer at large,”_ Continued the man, _“Please, stay indoors and report any strange sightings or activity regardless of how small. This mad man needs to be stopped…”_

The news man had no idea how right and yet wrong he was. Grail was the only person who needed to be stopped, and to do that, the hunters needed to be caught, interrogated, and then executed.

A cold nose poked against Donnie’s elbow, pulling him from thought and back onto his new little friend. 

The Neapolitan cat purred by his arm, her little icy whiskers twitching, and lifted up the last ice cube for the day for him to slide in place.

“Aww, look at you!” Exclaimed Mikey, “Helping like a big kitty. Soon your little home is going to be finished and all icy and adorable! Isn’t it, my cutey-wooty wittle fwiend~?”

Donnie smirked, purposely ignoring his brother’s atrocious butchery of the English language, and accepted the ice cube, slipping it on the second to last row of stairs that would allow Kitty out of the freezer all that much faster, right as Mikey dove inside and snatched hold of his favorite companion.

“Careful!” Donnie scolded as Mikey ripped her unceremoniously from the freezer, “You break her house and I won’t be happy!” But Mikey didn’t seem to care, at least, not entirely.

He snuggled his mushy pet and attempted to mimic her purring, all the while eyeing Donnie out of the corner of his eye with a sheepish grin. “You love her~” He cooed, “Don’t you~?”

“No.” Donnie lied, letting out a huff as he closed the lid and rubbed at his chilled fingers, “I’m simply assisting you in caring for her while the freezer is out. Any affections I’m showing are purely out of concern for her wellbeing.”

“Su-u-u-re they are~” Teased Mikey, his grin a mile wide, “Is that why I caught you feeding her sprinkles yesterday?”

Huffing even more, Donnie turned to face the orange banded turtle. “So what?!” He snapped, “She happens to _like_ sprinkles and so when I found some in the kitchen, while supervised, mind you, I-”

BANG!

Donnie nearly leapt out of his shell as a loud noise erupted from outside the lair, his heart soaring up into his throat as he spun on reflex and nearly threw himself behind the freezer. “What was that?!” He growled, ready to bolt and grab his little brother at any sign of danger.

Mikey, looking just as uneasy, leaned up and searched the turnstiles where Karai and Shini were now standing, weapons out. 

“…Shoulda’ clobbered him…” Echoed a voice, and Donnie immediately recognized it as Raph’s. “…wiped that smirk right off his four-eyed face and…” But what were they doing out on the old sub tracks? As far as Donatello had been aware, his brothers had gone to mediate with Sensei in his room hours ago.

Mikey, having no doubt picked up on Raph’s voice as well, murmured, “Sounds like Raph and Leo are back.” 

“Back?” Donnie repeated, the words sinking in after only a moment of contemplation. His eyes widened. “Back?! Wait, _what?_ No! Leo he, he promised.” Leaning up over the top of the freezer, Donnie stared at the entrance, Karai’s gaze now fixed on him as Leo and Raph’s voices grew louder.

“You just let him!” Bellowed Raph, “You didn’t defend us or do anything other than stand there! What the shell?!”

“Raph, hold on.” Called Leo, “Just wait a second!”

Suddenly the turtle in red came storming around the corner, his hands balled into fists as he launched over the turnstiles and marched across the lair. 

“No!” Raph snarled, Leo quickly appearing and leaping over the turnstiles after him, “I’m done talking, done listening, and done trying to understand! You should’ve told that mutant where to go and how to get there, but you didn’t!”

Raph stormed up the steps to Donnie’s lab, his shoulders practically quivering with rage, “Maybe later it’ll be different, but for right now…” He slammed open the door and spun on his heel, stopping Leo in his tracks at the foot of the stairs with a single vicious glare that had even Donnie cringing, “BACK OFF!!!”

With one mighty swing of his arm, the lab door slammed shut, shaking so hard the metal rattled in its frame.

Without waiting to be told, Mikey plopped Ice cream Kitty in her bowl beside the couch and leapt over to where Leo was still standing. He paused long enough to brush the eldest’s arm with an almost tender touch, before he skipped up the steps, slid the door open just enough and slipped inside, closing it behind him and sealing off the world to their brother’s shouts.

“Leo?” Called Karai.

Leonardo however just shook his head, turning ever so slightly to give Donnie a glance; he looked worried. “Tell Sensei I’ll be coming to speak to him once Raph calms down. Until then, no one goes back to the surface.”

“You weren’t supposed to be up there at all!” Blurted Donnie before he could stop himself, “What if the hunters found you?!”

“They did.” Murmured Leo, and he began to walk away.

“W-what?!” Donnie practically squeaked, but Leo didn’t stop, heading for the bedrooms with a slow but determined stride.

Quickly Donnie scooped up Ice-cream Kitty, apologizing as he plopped her gently into her home and closed the lid, then scrambled to his feet. “Hold on, wait!” He called, “Are you ok? What about Raph? Did you get hit with anything?”

He made it to Leo’s side right as his older brother paused outside his bedroom, his gaze quickly scanning his leader for any sign or injury or needle entry point.

Leo however seemed oblivious as he pushed open his door, and stepped inside where Donnie refused to follow. “You want to know what happened?” Asked Leo, and Donnie nodded, watching him with a mixture of curiosity and concern. “Then come inside.”  
Donatello blinked and looked at the door and its frame, a small prison, a way to lock him inside and trap him. 

Uneasily he took a step back, looking the older turtle up and down before finally resting his gaze on his brother’s. 

“Leo?” He murmured, suddenly uncomfortable, but all Leo did was stand there, his hardened eyes fixed on Donatello. 

His brother was acting unusually aggressive, and from the rigid posture and white knuckles there was no way to rule out Leo turning on him. 

Clearing his throat, Donnie tried again, “Leo, look; if you or Raph got hit by a dart, or were exposed to gases of any kind you need to tell me, I-”

“You won’t go near your lab.” Murmured Leo with a shrug, “If we were exposed to anything, how would you help us?”

Donnie froze. “I…” He stammered, caught off guard by the harsh reality of his brother’s question, “I’d, I mean-”

“One step at a time.” Interrupted Leo, his voice still cold and unwavering as he gestured to inside his own room, “You come in here, we talk. You don’t, then we’ll tell you nothing about what happened between us and the hunters.”

Again Donnie hesitated, wrapping his arms around himself as a shiver ran up his spine. He looked away, down at the floor almost shamefully. It was just a bedroom, he knew that, but whenever he thought about the small closed in space, all that came to mind was a cage.

“You don’t have to close the door.” Offered Leo, and this time his voice was far gentler, “Just one step inside, and then if you’re feeling brave, we can sit on the bed and I’ll tell you what happened.”

Glancing up, Donnie found himself fixated on the door frame; his heart racing, his hands tightening into fists, and he suddenly found himself shaking.

_‘It’s just a bedroom.’_ He told himself, closing his eyes again, _‘It’s just a bedroom. Stop being a coward. You need to know what happened, now just move. Just one step, just, one, step.’_ But his legs refused to budge. If anything they stiffened, keeping him rooted in place.

He opened his eyes just a little, and a bit of movement caught his eye. Instinct had him ready to run, when a gentle three fingered hand brushed his arm. He flinched from it but didn’t move, snapping his sights up instead to find Leo now right before him. 

His brother no longer looked tense, angry, or bitter, if anything he looked almost apologetic, his eyes saddened as they watched him, maybe even a little red and puffy as though he’d held back tears.

“Come on.” Said Leo, so softly. He didn’t try to grab him, didn’t try to coax, all he did was stand there, his arm outstretched to just barely brush against Donatello’s arm as a light, ‘I’m here,’ reminder. “Just one step.

“Just one step.” Donnie found himself repeating, “It’s a bedroom not a cage. Just one step.”

His foot lifted, shakily but in the air, his heart pounding. One step was all he intended to take, but the moment his foot connected with the ground again, he found himself holding his breath and stumbling forward. 

His attempt at bravery however, turned into a frantic adrenaline filled sprint half way through his stumble, a mix of desperation to prove himself not a coward and a nagging fear of being grabbed and subdued overwhelming his common sense. It was a bedroom, that’s all it was, not a prison…And yet still he found himself wedged in the corner of Leonardo’s bed, his heart hammering and eyes wide as he heaved in lungfuls of air. 

He was hyperventilating, in the middle of a panic attack, he realized that, but as far as the irrational part of his condition was concerned, the walls were going to close in at any moment and scientists were going to appear and grab him.

“What.” He forced out between breaths, his wide eyes snapping on Leo, still standing where Donatello had left him in the hall. “Happened.”

Very slowly Leo stepped into the doorway, a hard to read expression resting on Donatello as he moved across the floor to the side of the bed.

“Are you…?” Leo began, but Donnie wanted no part of it.

“What… Happened!” He said, far louder than he’d intended. “You wanted me… In the room… I’m _in_ the room… Now tell me!” 

Looking almost guilty now, Leo sighed and nodded, though instead of sitting on the bed, he knelt down on the carpet and rested his elbows on the edge of his ‘Space Heroes’ sheets.

“First and foremost I want you to understand that we believe you, Donnie.” Said Leo, holding his gaze, “But, with how violent you, well, were that day, we just had to be sure. So Raph and I went out, trying to follow a lead on some strange activity. We were just hoping to catch a glimpse of the hunters, maybe corner one if we were lucky. We just wanted to be certain.”

Floored by the stupidity of that statement, anger momentarily overwhelmed Donatello’s panic and he found himself glowering at his older brother. “Leo.” He said shortly, “You’re our leader. You’re not supposed to be that stupid!”

Leo however simply chuckled, his dark blue eyes drifting down to the bedspread. “Yeah…” He murmured, “That’s what your friend said.”

He sighed and rested his head against the bed, and before Donnie could process what Leonardo had told him, he began to speak again.

“Raph and I both got hit with electric nets.” He murmured, “They came out of nowhere, and we went down like a sack of rocks thrown right over the edge of a building.”

Leo grew quiet for a moment, and in that silence Donnie found himself cringing and tucking his knees up into his chest, a phantom sting searing through him at the memory of those nets.

“You were right.” Continued Leo, “Everything you said about them, about the scientists still being around, hunting down mutants, it was all true. They actually thought I was you, and started mocking us, upping the voltage…Five hundred thousand a brother.” Said Leo softly, “And now a million for you, Donnie, if you’re brought back alive. Five hundred thousand if brought back dead. The one guy said, ‘Grail didn’t care which anymore’, and pulled out a gun and pointed it at me. I think it was a dart gun, but I couldn’t be sure.”

Donnie’s heart nearly stopped, his eyes automatically scanning every inch of Leo he could see again for any sign of injury or injection marks. Leo didn’t seem to notice this, in fact, his expression appeared rather distant.

“That’s when your friends showed up. ‘Nine’, he thought I was you also. He lunged out of nowhere, ripped the throat right out of the one guy that had gotten too close to me, while a pack of mutant dogs swarmed the other and took him down.” 

“ _’Thirteen, Thirteen.’_ He kept saying. _‘Are you alright, did they get you?!’_ I was still partially stunned.” Leo sighed, “But the moment I began talking, calling for Raph to see if he was alright, they figured out pretty quick I wasn’t you.”

“But you’re ok?” Asked Donnie, “The Hunters didn’t…”

Leo nodded, still focusing on his bedsheets. “We’re fine, I promise, Donnie. You’re friend Nine made sure we were before we left. In fact, he insisted on it actually. Raph tried to fight him, so the big snake pinned him to the ground to check him over. _‘You’re stupid.’_ Nine kept saying, _‘You’re supposed to be warriors, intelligent, and strong. Yet here you are without Thirteen, walking straight into a clusterfuck like a couple of booters.’_ It took me a second, but I figured out what he meant. It was a military term for ‘rookies’, one that had Raph growling in seconds.”

Leo fell quiet again, only this time, Donnie felt the entire mood of his older brother change. Leonardo began to stiffen again before his eyes, a controlled sense of restraint coming over Leo’s face. His hands gripped the ‘Space Heroes’ sheets beneath him, and for a split second, he almost reminded Donnie of Raph just before he was about to blow a gasket.

“Nine really cares about you, doesn’t he?” Asked Leo, refusing to look up. 

That was an odd question, it seemed out of place with how upset Leo looked, but Donnie nodded anyway, “We looked out for each other.” He said gently, “And, well…Nine was always there for me…. He helped keep me sane. It’s safe to say that we… Well, we formed a _bond_ in there.”

He tucked his arms and legs in closer, remembering the shared tortures; being forced to watch as his friends were cut apart, strapped to tables and molested for the sake of ‘science’, all the while being studied like some sort of _thing_. The only reminder that he was still a thinking, feeling, intelligent being, was the social interaction and emotional connection he’d formed with his cage-mate. 

“We grew very close in that place.” 

He didn’t miss Leo’s fists tighten, or how his upper lip twitched. 

“Yeah.” Said Leo quickly, “That was something Nine made sure to point out. How _he_ was there for you when we weren’t. How we didn’t look hard enough. How you had save yourself and everyone in there with only him and someone named ‘Five’ to depend on. He accused us of, of…Well, let’s just say Raph and him won’t be buddies anytime soon.”

Donnie’s heart clenched. Leo just didn’t understand. Nine was protective yes, but it was anger that fueled his words; anger in _himself_ for allowing Donatello to remain behind while he and the others fled. ‘Survivor’s Guilt’ they called it, and that’s all it was, painful words thrown in fear and self-hatred for what his friend felt he’d allowed to happen... 

Donnie opened his mouth, about to explain and possibly defend Nine’s actions, when Leo looked up.

The eldest’s face was warped with pain. “You know we looked for you, right?” He asked, a hint of a question hanging on the end of his words, “We never stopped, and never gave up, not once. We do care about you, Donnie, more than you know. I swear it.”

“I-I know.” Said Donnie quickly, uncurling just a little to reach for his brother, “It’s just that Nine, well, he’s messed up, the same way I am, only he expresses it differently. We’ve been through a lot, Leo, stuff that you couldn’t even begin to imagine.”

“Try me.” Said Leo almost desperately. He reached out and rested his hand just inches from Donnie, but didn’t touch. “Just talk to me, help me understand.”

Donnie looked away this time, he had to. “It’s, it’s not that easy.” He murmured, his heart beginning to pound, “I don’t want to remember, but…The things we went through, what we had to endure…”

“Donnie…” Whispered Leo, and Donatello clenched his eyes shut, his hands clutching into shaking fists against his plastron.

“We were tortured, Leo.” He choked out, “Every day, every night, sometimes together, sometimes separate. They’d strap us down, cut into us without anesthetic just to see how we’d react. Then they’d collect samples …they’d, they’d….”

Donnie stopped, unable to say anything further. His shoulders shook, and what little he’d uncurled suddenly seemed far too exposed, and he snapped his limbs in tight again against his plastron once more. 

“They’d touch you.” He heard Leo whisper after a moment, “In ways you didn’t want them to, didn’t they?”

Donatello stiffened. How could his brother know that? 

“And you fought them.” Continued Leo, “Every single time.”

His files…Leo had to of gone and read his files…

Icy chills rode up Donnie’s spine, his heart hammering so loud he swore his brother could hear it... Leo _knew._

“Sometimes they’d make us watch…” Donnie managed to choke out before his voice broke all together. His eyes clenched shut even tighter, and it was everything he could do not to suck himself into his shell to escape. 

“It was to try and break you.” Said Leo softly, “But instead of allowing them to get into your head, you thought of us, making it our hands instead of theirs, turning a _rape_ , into something consensual between brothers who love you…”

Rape…There it was, that loathsome word Donatello had been avoiding since the day those depraved humans had first invaded him in the most intimate and abhorrent manner.

“No…” Donnie whimpered, “No, I…”

He tried to talk but words wouldn’t come out. The only sounds that left him were pathetic squeaks, his throat suddenly swollen from the shame, denying him any chance to defend himself.

A hot tingling at the edges of his eyes was the only warning that gave away the presence of tears that slid down his cheeks before he could stop them, every inch of him trembling on Leonardo’s bed. He could feel the scientists’ hands on him, _in_ him, pulling him out and displaying him for all to see…He didn’t want it, didn’t want to feel it, didn’t want to remember…

“L-Leo…” He managed to force out, his voice so weak and shaky it was humiliating. “H-help, me…”

He felt the mattress dip at his call, and suddenly warm scaled arms were pulling him in. “I’m right here.” He heard Leo whisper in his ear, “It’s ok, you’re safe. I’m here…”

Donnie found himself burrowing into the warmth of his brother, searching for any bit of comfort he could find; grateful for the feel of three fingered hands instead of the phantom feel of human fingers that ghosted his body.

“I’m sorry… Leo, I...I’m so sorry.”

“Shh, it’s ok.” Whispered Leo again, “You got through it. You were strong, and that’s all that matters.”

He could hear the rhythm of Leonardo’s pulse, could feel the rise and fall of his chest with each inhale and exhale, could smell his brother’s familiar scent. Guilt lanced through him.

“It’s not ok… I, I _used_ you, my own brothers, and I-“ 

“You didn’t use anybody, Donnie” Leo cut him off. “Your mind was searching for something to hold on to, and what you found was your feelings for us.” Leo sounded so certain of his words, but Donnie just shook his head, face still pressed against his brother’s plastron, refusing to look up at him.

“It- it was just to get through it…” Donnie whimpered, “None of it was r-real…”

“Donnie-”

“It wasn’t real!” Donatello choked again, but instead of his confession bringing him solace, it felt like it only condemned him further. He cried harder into his brother, awkwardly curling up his lanky form as much as possible to simply hide, allowing Leo’s embrace to shield him, to protect him.

“…How do you know?” He heard Leo whisper.

Know? He didn’t. Donatello didn’t know one bit and that’s what scared him the most;

What if he didn’t actually love his brothers in a romantic manner? 

He had been desperate to find a mental escape; what if the only reason his thoughts had turned to his brothers was because April’s similar appearance to that woman had made her an unsuitable stand-in? What if his feelings were nothing more than the residual by-product of a coping mechanism that had simply evolved into a need to be accepted by his brothers and to justify his newfound clinginess? What if this was all simply a fear of being excluded? 

What if he ruined everything because of his uncertainty? Drove his brothers apart, ended their love for one another because of his lack of feelings for them? It would all be his fault. 

But on the other hand, what if he did love them?

With every inch of him trembling, Donatello slowly pulled away just enough to finally meet his big brother’s gaze. Those beautiful dark blue orbs filled with love and concern.

“We’ll love you no matter what.” Continued Leo, so close Donnie could feel his breath with each word. “As a brother, or as a lover. It doesn’t matter to me, to Raph, or to Mikey. So long as you let us help you…”

Was he in love with Leo? Was he in love with _any_ of them? The thought flitted into his mind again, and this time he _had_ to know for sure.

The current situation was less than romantic, in fact it was more surreal than anything, sitting there on those ridiculously juvenile sheets his brother probably should have outgrown years ago, tears still streaking down his cheeks like some snot-nosed hatchling come to crawl into a sibling’s bed after a bad dream. But Leo’s expression was filled with nothing but patience and quiet encouragement, and Donatello found himself asking the unthinkable…

“Can I…Can I kiss you?” He whispered, his voice still shaking.

Leo looked surprised for half a heartbeat, but quickly his bewilderment faded into a soft but genuine smile. “Of course.” He said gently. “If that’s what you want.”

It was, though it wasn’t solely for the sake of knowledge. Deep down Donnie knew it was a forbidden desire to feel his brother’s lips to his, to solidify his need to be close and comforted in the only way he’d imagined he could be through all those days of torture…It was to feel like he mattered, to feel wanted, to feel like more than just a lab experiment, more than a nothing.

Donnie swallowed hard. It was now or never. He leaned in; his eyes closed, and pressed his lips feather light against his brother’s. Leo remained still, allowing Donatello to take the lead.

The whole world seemed to slow, time stood still, and shell, he didn’t want it to stop.

He pulled away just enough. “Leo…” He whispered, a hint of need in his voice to summon his brother closer, and closer Leo came. His strong hands came up, one cupping Donatello’s cheek, the other wrapping tight around him.

“I’m here.” Leo breathed, and their lips connected once more.


	22. Ch. 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning-  
> Violence, blood and death. Child experimentation and graphic descriptions of mutant abuse.

Dr. Williams had promised he was going to release the mutants. That was thirty days ago, and not once during those thirty days did Donatello receive any indication that the human had any intention of keeping his word…

The last thing Donatello remembered was floating in a strange liquid, staring hazily out at scientists with clipboards as gas was pumped into his lungs through two tubes that had been shoved into his nose.

Everything had been so clear. He had been vivisected without sedation for the sake of _science_ , he had been afraid, terrified of never seeing the light of day, of never seeing his family, his brothers, ever again…

But when he opened his eyes after what felt like only minutes, blinking up at a man in a white coat, shouting muffled words to him, he couldn’t quite remember why he’d been so frightened. Until that was, he spotted the pins that had been used to hold his plastron together, sitting around him in the bottom of the tank.

At first he’d panicked, struggled to get away from those hands, those evil grabbing five fingered hands that had held him, ripped him open and played with his insides. When he found his gaze resting on a peculiar sight; It was Nine, out of his cage, with a blue faced man wrapped in his coils, an arm poking out from them barely twitching.

Blood was spattered across the normally white floors; bodies of men Donatello didn’t recognize lying limp along the tile. 

A furry face had appeared then, a fluffy black and white canine-mutant who’d helped calm him with five simple words: “We’re getting out of here.”

He was C1-05, a chemistry student who’d been on his way to college classes when he was hit with a canister of mutagen. The cell manipulating serum had picked up on his pet, a Border Collie, and warped his body into a black and white, long haired canine. With his mutation however, came an increase in intelligence, a bit like Rockwell, though a lot more modest. 

The big dog wasn’t one for blood, a bit squeamish actually, though he did have one shell of a calming effect on those around him, even on Donatello. While Nine was seeing red, the Border Collie mutant pulled Donatello together, called in the other mutants, a bird-woman and some werewolfy looking guy, and set a plan with Dr. Williams, a plan that R1-13 took charge of, and labeled with one single phrase:

_No mutant left behind…_

Screams filled the air, and they weren’t all from the humans. 

“Oh come on!” Bellowed Thirteen, snarling as he slammed into the door the scientists had tried to barricade.

Young mutants were crying and wailing for their mothers, their fathers, anything familiar from behind him. Some had no eyes, other missing limbs…

The door creaked as he slammed it again and began to give way, but the moment the gap was made, an electric grabber was jabbed through from the other side, snapping around the first thing it could reach, a child;

A young lizard mutant, no older than three or four, had been sticking close to R1-13’s side since he’d released her just a few precious moments ago, and shell did she scream as the electricity surged through her tiny body. 

“Cowards!” He snarled, his voice pitching with worry. Releasing the door, he grabbed at the pole to lessen the shock as another mutant, a scrawny young tabby cat, in his early teens perhaps, ran forward to continue slamming at the door. 

The little girl writhed at Thirteen’s feet as he fought to break the clamp’s hold, the horrible sounds her tortured lungs were making were enough to scar him for life,

“Nine!” He screamed desperately as his muscles twitched, “Do something!”

The room they had broken into had been bigger than they first assumed. It held two sets of mutant cages; one for children, the other for the adults who cared for them, and standing between them was about twenty scientists. 

Nine had stayed with the few others they had freed to fight the humans off while Five and Thirteen split up to free the other mutant prisoners. They hadn’t known at the time that there’d be children in there, at least, not kids _that_ young. 

There were about ten of them, ranging from newborns to young teens, some of them living in their own feces and blood, while others were so weak they could barely stand. Not all of them were in poor condition though, something that the eldest captive in the room Thirteen had found had been able to explain; 

They were nothing more than tools to force their parents to cooperate.

Those whose parents complied were kept clean and fed, while those whose parents fought the experiments were tortured before their loved one’s eyes, left in filth, and starved until their mothers and fathers complied.

The humans in charge of this room were described as monsters, and shell if they didn’t fight like monsters too.

Another electric grabber stabbed through the door, crackling towards R1-13’s face. Teeth gritted he bent his neck, missing the grabber by inches and roared. He slammed into the metal pole and pinned it up against the wall, the electricity surging mere inches from his face.

“Nine!” He yelled again until his lungs burned. The pole against his neck jerked, the clamp opening and closing, itching to grab onto flesh of any kind. Children were screaming, babies wailing from the arms of injured kids too terrified to move, all of them cringing away from Thirteen and the child writhing in agony at his feet.

“Those experiments get loose and it’ll be _your_ ass I hand to Grail!” Spat a human from the other side, “Now keep them con- _Williams?_ What are you-?”

Every child screamed as gunshots erupted through the air.

“The snake, watch the snake!” Screeched one of the scientists right as something heavy slammed hard against the door. A man screamed, and the tasers went dead.

Thirteen lunged for the little girl as the grabbers clattered to the ground, her tiny form still twitching as he pulled her into his arms. “Hang in there.” He whispered to her, his huge fingers slipping along her neck to check for a pulse.

“We’re going to get you out. _All_ of you.” He corrected, glancing up to the group of horrified children before him, once he had confirmed that she was indeed alive.

The door gave a creak, and Thirteen heard the teen cat hiss. He spun around, clutching the unconscious child to his plastron and growled. Again the door creaked, but this time, two sets of scaly, blood laden hands slipped through the crack and gripped it tight.

Thirteen sighed in relief as his friend hissed, prying the door away along with whatever barricade the humans had put there.

“Come on!” Hissed the massive snake, his coils shoving through the crack to force it wider, “Move it!”

Spinning around to the little ones, Thirteen snapped, “Go on, go! Older mutants grab the shockers!” 

He clutched the limp form closer to his plastron and waved the kids forward, grateful to see the older ones doing exactly as he ordered and encouraging the younger ones to go along. Only when they were all out did he dare follow them, pushing past the gap to emerge beside Nine. 

There were at least six more mutants with them now, scarred, battered, missing limbs, and spattered with blood. The children were rushing to them, sobbing and weak, but they made it, the adults wrapping the little ones up in their arms and crying with relief.

Williams was there as well, propped up against the wall and shaking, his white coat dotted with red, a small gun in his hand. He was staring down at a man a few feet from him, lying in a pool of his own blood.

“They outnumbered usss, tried to take usss down with brute sstrength.” Hissed Nine, tugging R1-13’s attention off of the group and up onto his friend, “What happened to her?” 

“Electric shock.” Said Thirteen, “She has a pulse, but we need to keep moving. Where’s her mother?”

Nine seemed to hesitate, before he hissed, “From the ssoundsss of thingsss, not all of them were alive in there. Ssomething about, _‘being hung up for dissplay’_ asss a warning.”

“They had little ones in there too.” Murmured a new voice, and Five appeared beside them, arms out, offering to hold the child still against Thirteen’s Plastron. “Cut open, hanging on the walls and rotting.” The Border Collie mutant gagged and flattened his ears, and Thirteen swore he could pick up the stench of decaying flesh clinging to the poor mutant’s fur. “We _really_ need to get the hell out of here.”

Swallowing the bile that rose in his throat, Thirteen released his grip on the little girl and placed her gently in Five’s outstretched arms. “Get them ready.” He said, “We’re getting out of this hell hole, hopefully the others won’t be so bad.”  
And yet, the further in they went, the worse the rooms became. 

The cruelty of man had no limits, and neither did their viciousness when it came to them trying to get their subjects back into cages. 

_“Come on you stupid thing!” Snarled the man over the crackle of electricity. “Just, get, in, the, cage!”_

_Stars popped before Thirteen’s eyes as he struggled to breathe. The noose around his neck only tightening as electricity surged through it. He managed to stay standing though, one foot braced against the side of a small metal cage that reeked of death, the other firmly planted against the ground._

_“Never.” Thirteen managed to choke, his teeth gritted as he resisted with all his might. He clawed at the thing around his neck despite the surge of electricity that made his muscles twitch and spasm, his knee nearly gave out…_

_A sharp yell screeched over the crackling in Thirteen’s ears, and instantly he felt relief. The taser stopped, the poll slipped free, and he nearly hit his knees._

_Ripping the thing off from around his neck he gasped in lungfuls of precious air._

_“The others, they got out,” Croaked an elderly voice, and when he turned, he found an ancient looking weasel, the left side of her once furry face badly burned and bloody, with one eye milky white, kneeling beside him. “The men were throwing acid, there were others that were injured. You must go, help them…”_

_Thirteen’s eyes widened. She hadn’t looked like that a few minutes ago._

_“Ma’am?” He choked out, reaching to her, “Your, y-your face!?” But he never reached her. The elderly mutant, thin and frail, collapsed at his feet and moved no more._

Every room was just as bad…

_“No!” Yelled R1-13 as he lunged, throwing himself between a maddened woman and Williams who was stitching back up a sobbing child . With a woosh of white, the scientist threw off her coat, Thirteen’s eye following it for a second too long, and slammed full force into the battered turtle’s plastron._

_The wind was knocked from his lungs, a sharp sting stabbing into his side. Instinct had his hand on hers in an instant as he cracked hard against the ground, stopping the scalpel from digging deeper into his body._

_“Someone sedate them!” She screeched atop him, abnormally strong as the knife dug deeper. He could hear Nine roaring, feel the ground beneath him shaking as the other mutants stormed the room._

_He bucked and managed to slam his knee into her gut, but her grip never slackened._

_“You stupid…” She grunted, “Just stop fighting! Or it’ll be worse for you when they put you back!”_

_“I’m, not, going, back!” He hissed, kneeing her again, when a flash of black and bloody coils slipped between the two of them and wrapped around her throat._

_Her eyes widened as Nine snarled, his coils slipping around her more and more, and her grip slackened on the knife._

_Thirteen ripped himself from her clutches and limped to his feet, quickly searching the wound for any sign of internal damage. The knife was still sticking out of the bridge of his shell, blood oozing out from between the blade and keratin, but it wasn’t as deep as he’d originally feared._

_“How you holding up?” Asked William’s without turning from his tiny patient, his voice shaking._

_“I’m fine.” Thirteen hissed, and he yanked the blade from his side. Pain rushed through him as quickly as the blood began to flow from his open wound. Another mutant, a bird beaked woman appeared beside him without question and pressed a wad of cloth to his side._

_“Where do they hold the mutants here?” Thirteen asked, nodding to her as he took over applying pressure. It stung, but he hung on, adrenaline giving him the strength to keep moving._

_“Far back on the right.” Said William’s without looking up, the little girl still sobbing as he sewed the skin that had been peeled open on her leg back in place. “Go through the steel door, not the wooden one. I’ve never been allowed in, but they call it the ‘Survival Room’. Be careful.”_

_Spinning towards the wall, Thirteen, pointed and snapped, “I need a group of five, strong and able, at that door right there!”_

_Without missing a beat five of the bigger mutants rushed to the door as ordered, claws and tentacles brandished, ready to go. He reached them, and together they smashed the solid door in, fully prepared to rescue those on the other side, when a putrid stench of festering meat slammed them in the face._

_Every single one of them coughed and recoiled, fleeing from the door almost as quickly as they had rushed to it._

_Eyes watering Thirteen choked and coughed but turned back despite the smell. “No mutant left behind…” He mumbled under his breath, and he plowed forward, forcing his way into the room and through the horrid fetor.  
What he found in there, would haunt him for the rest of his life. _

_Mutants were strung up like puppets in the air, huge hooks gouged into their skin to keep them dangling from the ceiling. Others were lying in sticky pools of coagulated blood beside the rotting corpses of animals and maggots, while some were conscious, cowering in the corner of their cages, every rib and ghostly bone beneath their skin showing in the faint light there._

_It wasn’t a survival room. It was a medieval torture chamber…_

Ten, twenty, thirty, the numbers kept on climbing with every lab they entered, each room just as horrible as the last.

The humans fought them hard, refusing to bend or stand back and just let them pass. They were animals as far as the scientists were concerned, filthy beasts that needed to be caged. R1-13 did his best to fight them off, but even he was beginning to grow tired.

He was covered in cuts and bruises, stab marks from scalpels that had missed puncturing major arteries by inches. There were electric burns on both of his palms, his wrists and neck, one nasty one on his ankle and a thick burn around his right thigh that stung with every move. Yet still he plowed on, yet still he fought, and still he freed every mutant he could find with Nine and Williams at his side while Five tended to the injured. 

He never did run into the red-haired bitch from hell, or Eric, the man who’d been beside her since the beginning, and that alone terrified him. 

It wasn’t about revenge or getting even for what they’d done at that point, it never was, it was about making sure those people would never hurt anyone again, would never find them, his family... But they weren’t there, a fact that he swallowed and carried with him as they made a mad dash for the final step- 

Their freedom. 

“This way!” Yelled R1-13, waving the mass of mutated humans and animals forward as they rushed down the hall. “Healthy on the outside, sick, injured, young, or with infants on the inside. Watch your fellow mutants’ back! Come on, everyone, move it!”

He turned and shifted into the crowd, heading for the front of the mass while Five moved back to check on the rear and Nine stayed in the middle to be sure the weak were tended to.

Nervous eyes flitted over him as Thirteen shot through the crowd. They were looking to him the same way he and his brothers looked to Leonardo or their Sensei, the searching, hopeful looks that asked one silent question; _what do we do now?_

He reached the front, finding the young Dr. Williams examining a hallway wall. “Right here!” Said the blooded human, turning to face two massive mutants. “Smash through this and it’ll lead outside.”

Neither mutant moved, one made of solid stone with thick arms and legs, the other metallic and car like with tires on each arm. They were hesitating, watching him with guarded expressions. They didn’t trust him, and Thirteen couldn’t blame them.

“Come on, let’s go!” Shouted Thirteen, hopping out of the huddled mutants behind them in hopes they’d listen. He pointed at the wall and snapped. “Williams, out of the way. You two, smash it down! Lead us to freedom!”

Again they seemed uneasy, eyeing Williams and then Thirteen, but thankfully it didn’t last for long. The big boulder man let out a huff and growled, his eyes locked on the wall, took a stance and then plowed forward, his buddy launching right behind him, and slammed full force into the concrete. 

The floors beneath them shuddered and shook, the very walls trembling as hunks of plaster crashed down from the ceiling from the impact. 

Dust filled the air as the walls and ceiling crumbled away. “Gunmen on the other side, watch out!” Bellowed a voice through it, one Thirteen didn’t recognize, but it didn’t discourage him, in fact, it spurred him on.

“Armored mutants to the front!” Roared R1-13 at the mention of a gun, “Those with abilities, right behind them! All others, protect the injured and the children!” 

The two bigger mutants rumbled as they backed up, their brows set and determined, and charged. Slamming again into the wall one last time. 

Everything shook as the concrete gave way, crumbling down to expose blinding lights and an array of voices.

Gunshots filled the air right as thickly built mutants stormed forward, snarling, growling, lifting hunks of wall and launching them through the dust. 

“Clear a path!” Thirteen snapped, about to throw himself into the fray and fight their way out, when a tentacle wrapped around his arm and tugged.

“Sir, please…”

He whipped around, finding a poorly mutated mutant. It sounded like a woman, but he couldn’t be sure, as she was blobby like Timothy had ended up, but with a more decomposed look, her head nothing but an eyeless skull.

“There’s one more.” She said, “They just took him this morning, his name is ZC12-01, please we can’t leave without him.”

“One more?” Thirteen repeated, “No, Williams, he said, he...” But he stopped, looking her in her skull’s eyeless sockets, “I’ll get him, don’t worry. Now go.”

He turned into the rushing crowd and pushed his way through, making his way over to the shaking human who had effectively squished himself against the wall.

“Williams!” Thirteen snapped as he drew near, and the poor boy flinched.

“There’s a lot more violence happening at the moment than I was expecting today.” Shouted Williams over the gunshots and screams of pain from the men outside, “There’s only a handful of mutants who didn’t survive, so we’re doing pretty good, all things considered.”

Something heavy slammed hard against the other side of the wall where they were standing and the disheveled human nearly jumped out of his skin.

What R1-13 wanted to say was _‘what were you expecting?’_ but instead, he stuck to what was important. “Are you sure that’s everyone?” 

The blond nodded, looking pale and about ready to puke.

Grabbing the young man by the shoulders, Donnie straightened him and gave him a gentle shake. “Williams,” He snapped, “ZC12-01, I’m told we missed someone. Are you sure?!”

Williams’ blue eyes snapped up, frightened and confused. “ZC…No, he’s pretty much dead. There’s no point in-”

“No mutant left behind!” Thirteen spat, “Come on, Williams, don’t lose it now!”

“Whatsss, wrong?” Hissed a familiar voice from behind him.

Without turning, Thirteen fixed the frightened human with a Raph-worthy glare. “There’s someone still in there.”

“You don’t understand,” Spluttered Williams, his whole body shaking, “ZC12-01 is Dr. _Grail’s_ subject. They put ZC12-01 in the ‘Parts Room’ earlier, that means he’s as good as dead if he’s not already. There’s only forty-five minutes left before the building resets itself and we’re hit with a mass of armored restrainers. You need that time to get as far away from here as you can, not to go back for someone who may or may not be alive. He-”

“Tell me where!” Snarled Thirteen, his burned hands tightening around the fragile human’s shoulders. “You can run all you want; I’m _not_ leaving anyone behind.”

“I’ll go with you.” Offered Nine, but Thirteen shook his head. 

“No,” He said, pointing to the hole in the wall where the last few remaining mutants were scampering through, “They need you right now more than I do. Without order they’re all lost.”

Two hands grabbed his arm and yanked him around. “No!” Hissed the snake, his four eyes narrowed and burning, “I didn’t leave my men back then and I’m not leaving you now!” 

“They need you.” Snapped R1-13, “I don’t.” His voice softened as he murmured, “I’ll meet you on the other side of the wall, I promise. Now go do the right thing and make sure those innocent mutants live.”

The big snake seemed uneasy, his tongue flicking, and eyes shifting from him, to the mass crawling their way up the wall between them and freedom.

“I…” He began, the internal conflict plain across his face. “I’ve never abandoned anyone.”

“You’re not abandoning me.” Corrected Thirteen, “You’re following orders to ensure the lives of others. Now go.”

That did it. Nine straightened some, looking upset but determined. “Very well.” He hissed, “We’ll wait for you on the other sside as long asss we can. Be quick, my friend…”

The bloody claws released R1-13, and though it was obvious the big snake didn’t like what he was doing, he turned, and slithered out after the others, leaving Thirteen alone with the still shivering doctor. 

“Williams…” Said Thirteen once Nine was out of earshot, turning back to the traumatized young human, “Just tell me where ZC12-01 is and then follow after Nine, he’ll keep you safe.”

But the Doc shook his head, “N-no, you won’t find it on your own. I, well…ugh,” He groaned, shaking his head, before waving for R1-13 to follow him, “Just come on.”

And so he did. Thirteen followed after the Doctor down the hall he’d just escaped from, back towards a fate unknown with only one thought in mind; No one, not anyone, half dead or not, would be allowed to remain behind in the building from hell itself…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This ended up longer then I thought, so it's been split in two. Next chapter coming as soon as we can, promise!


	23. Ch. 23

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning:  
> Death, violence, lots of fucked up...  
> You've been warned.   
> Also, don't be stupid. Nothing in this chapter should be tried or repeated, Donatello is an expert, you are not.

“This way!” Panted Williams as he and R1-13 shot down one of the many halls. “It’s just up ahead. We have enough time to slip in, grab ZC12-01 _if_ he’s alive and, if he can walk, make it back to the wall and over it, where we’ll be able to get a good head start. If he can’t walk, well, forget the head start and hope to God they don’t catch us!”

Skidding around a corner, Thirteen kept pace with the man, chasing after his blood stained coat that billowed out behind them. They rounded a bend and Williams nearly slipped in his haste to halt before a door.

“This is the ‘Parts Room’.” He said in a hurry, as he fumbled with the code box to unlock the door. “It should be empty, but…” The moment the door clicked unlocked, Thirteen, grabbed the back of Williams’ coat and yanked him out of the way. 

Quickly the battered turtle pressed up against the wall and tested the door handle. No zaps, burning, or pain followed, so he gripped it tight and slowly creaked it open.

A strong scent of formaldehyde hit his nose. A quick sniff, and he was able to pick out the embalming scents of phenol, methanol, and glycerin, common chemicals when it came to preserving specimens. There was a hint of blood hanging underneath it all, but it was faint, almost like a fresh steak; a meaty iron smell that wasn’t over powering, but you knew it was there. 

He poked the door open a bit further, and when no one tried to slam it shut or jab something sharp at him, he pushed it open all the way and cautiously peered inside.

It was a relatively small room compared to the ones he was used to, not too big, but at the same time large enough to fit four dissection tables evenly spread out in its center, with three smaller examination tables lined neatly up against the wall. There were some kind of bones and flesh atop each tray, but that wasn’t what held R1-13’s attention…

There were glass tubes and jars of all sizes throughout the room, all of them full of something wrinkled and fleshy. There were cabinets, computers, and a large metal door at the end of the room that appeared to be some sort of large walk in freezer or maybe even a holding cell, but his eye kept drifting back to the murky flesh within the jars.

They were tiny forms, mutants, all of them dead and preserved behind glass. Some of them were whole, others were malformed, with some jars containing bits and pieces of larger mutants, and in one, a clear jar that he’d found himself transfixed on, he found a little figure with a pale green turtle shell…

“What,” Said Thirteen slowly, his gaze fixed on what he could only describe as a curled up fetus. “Is _that…_ ”

He took a step closer, hoping he was maybe seeing things, that maybe the tiny figure behind glass was anything but what he feared. Yet as he drew closer, he spotted its three fingered hands balled into lifeless fists, its soft, almost white plastron, and its turtle-like tail that was wrapped in around its tucked up legs.

Williams said nothing as Thirteen reached the wall of jars, choosing instead to go about as he had been when they entered a new room; closing and locking the door, then blocking it with the heaviest object he could find while the mutants did their work.  
Slowly R1-13 reached out and shifted the jar on the shelf, finding two others just like it right behind it, both in different stages of growth, both definitely turtles. 

They had labels atop their lids, their subject name, date of _‘creation’_ , time of death, preservatives, and…and…

“DNA source: R1-13 and R4-17.” He read out loud, color quickly draining from his face. “Williams…” He called without looking away, his voice beginning to shake “What…Is this? Are they…?” 

He couldn’t finish. His throat constricted as a mix of overwhelming emotions swirled in, fuzzing his brain and all thought. He turned, staring like an idiot at the young man in the room, now peering at the bones displayed across the metal tables.

“Why do you think they wanted semen?” Williams dead-panned, his gaze drifting up to find R1-13 still standing stunned before the jars.

“B-but…” Murmured Thirteen, his tongue and brain still refusing to work. “Those are…they were, mine?”

Slowly the young human nodded and said softly, “They used your DNA, so technically yes.”

Thirteen’s heart gave a painful clench, his eyes widened, and he suddenly remembered how to form words. “Why the _shell_ didn’t you say anything?!” He shouted, “I have, I mean, I was a _father!?_ Are there more?! Who’s the mother?! Where are they held?!” He took a step towards Williams, angry, fearful, desperate all at once. They had limited time to get back out and he needed to not only find ZC12-01, but now an entire room full of babies, one or more of which may actually be his! 

“Williams, we have to-” But the human stopped him.

“No.” Said Williams, waving his hands to emphasize it. “This is why I didn’t try to explain it, I knew it would be a hard concept to swallow. They’re-”

“Where are they?!” Snapped Thirteen, his anger growing, “Do you really think I’m just going to leave children, _my_ children in this place?!”

“They’re _not_ children!” Snapped Williams just as loud, though his voice remained pleading as though begging Thirteen to understand. “They were grown in test tubes. All thirty-seven of them; each one created using DNA from the strongest specimens available with the highest pain tolerance for the military. They’re _weapons_. Grown, living, breathing weapons with a predetermined chemistry and thought pattern. Their brains do not compute anything other than orders, and will _never_ compute anything other then orders. In short, they cannot function on their own.”

“I’ll take care of them then!” Snapped Thirteen, “They’re innocent lives, I can’t just-”

“They’re _weapons._ ” Repeated Williams, putting stress on the word weapon, “Weapons lacking any sort of free will or autonomous function. You tell them to walk into a fire, and they will. You tell them to take a bullet and they will. You tell them to hold their breath until they die, and they will! The wrong person gets a hold of them and they’ll have an instant army with no feeling or remorse! These things can’t even _eat_ without being told to first!”

Letting out a sigh, Williams shook his head and said softly, “Besides, they’re all in the infant stage right now. The men in charge haven’t discovered how to accelerate growth without causing severe deformities. You wouldn’t be able to carry them all anyway. Even if we _did_ have time to get to them, the kindest thing you could do for them would be to humanely end their life before they end up being used for their intended purpose. Which is to kill, destroy, and die for the US Military, and anyone who get's their hands on them.”

All Thirteen could do was stare at him, his mouth slightly open and heart pounding so hard he was sure it would crack through his plastron. He felt sick, every bit of him chilled and ready to throw up across the tile, for he understood what Williams was saying, and worst of all, the logical side of Donatello actually _agreed_ with the human…

“C-can the infants be accessed through the computer system?” Asked R1-13 quietly.

Williams looked confused for only a moment before he nodded. “Yeah, they’re all in pods while they grow. You’d have to hack the system though, and I-”

“I can do that.” Interrupted Thirteen, his fists clenching as he steeled his resolve. He marched across the tile towards the tables, determined to keep his promise; no mutant left behind, even if it meant… if it meant….

“Where’s ZC12-01?” He asked, trying to distract himself for what he was about to do, “You and him can escape while I get into the computer system. We still have half an hour or so, it’ll be enough time for you to get out and over the wall. I’ll be able to catch up quicker if I’m on my own.”

“Yeeah…” Murmured Williams, glancing back at the tables before them. “About that…”

Thirteen followed his gaze down as he approached, his already knotted stomach lurching as he focused on the de-fleshed bones. “Let me guess.” Thirteen sighed, stopping at one of the tables where two large clawed hands and spikey ulnas, radius, and humerus’ lay, so fresh from their excarnation that bits of red tissue still clung to their joints. “ZC12-01…”

Williams nodded, “Yeah.” He said softly, gesturing to the metacarpus of the monstrous boney hands, “His hands were already bone when he arrived, along with parts of his ribs, hips, face, legs and, well, you get the point, so Dr. Grail decided to be _creative_ , and burned his I.D. into the bone.”

Carefully Williams flipped one of the massive claws over, revealing the name that had been branded into the poor mutant’s bone; _ZC12-01._

“I jokingly called him a zombie-dog once, because of how much flesh was missing.” Said Williams sadly, “Grail took it seriously, hence the name. ZC; Zombie Canine. He’s got a twisted sense of humor…” 

Looking up, Thirteen found the other tables, all of the bones carefully stripped of flesh and laid out with tags attached to them like some sort of morbid rummage sale. Even the long fanged canine skull had been scraped of tissue, though not quite ready for the degreasing stage as its golden eyes were still in its sockets staring lifelessly at the ceiling. It was tagged as well, its brain sitting beside it with its heart, lungs, liver, and other organs laid out on the smaller trays surrounding a strange, medium-sized rectangular container filled with some sort of liquid. 

The smell of acetone was heavy; the scientists must have been preparing for the first stages of plastination when the ruckus of the escaping mutants called them away. Williams was right, ZC12-01 was long dead before they’d even got there.

“Dammit.” Thirteen cursed, his fists clenching even tighter. More death, more blood, one more mutant’s life lost, and now he’d have to go end thirty-seven more, he wasn’t sure how much more of this he could take. 

Shaking his head, he leaned against the metal table and took a deep breath. “Alright.” He said softly, looking over at the skull again, trying not to imagine the eyeless sockets of the mutant who’d pleaded with him to rescue this poor soul, or how he’d have to tell her he’d failed. 

“Williams, I need you to get me as far into the system as you can. I’ll take it from there, I just need-”

The pupils of the golden eyes within the lifeless skull suddenly contracted, flicking over to fix onto R1-13 so fast they silenced Thirteen with one look.

The boney jaws creaked, opening up with a raspy gasp as the lungs, separated from its body, expanded on their own.

R1-13 had never screamed so loud in his life. 

“HOLY MOTHER OF MUTATIONS!” He screeched, flailing back as every bone seemed to twitch across the tables they’d been placed. 

Williams screamed just as loud and sprang to Thirteen’s side, clutching onto him for dear life, a scalpel in hand and brandished like a sword out in front of him.

“Zombie- ZOMBIE!” He shouted stupidly, “I was _right_ , holy crap!!”

The jaws parted a little more, seeming to struggle, when sound came out from between its boney teeth, amplified by a dried up tongue that had not yet been removed. “T-urt-le.”

R1-13’s eyes widened, what little color he had left quickly draining as the raspy voice of a mutant he knew all too well came from the skull’s long fanged jaws.

“P-lea-se.” The skull continued, “Mer-cy…”

Rahzar, he was _alive_ ; decapitated, eviscerated, and dismembered, but by some cruel twist of fate he was still alive.

“Holy Chalupa.” Whispered Thirteen, still rooted to the spot.

“P-lea-se!” Wheezed the skull again, Rahzar’s golden eyes boring into Donatello’s, “Ki-ll, m-e!”

Feeling absolutely sick, Thirteen swallowed the bile that rose in his throat and glanced uneasily at Williams, the young man still brandishing the scalpel as though expecting the bones to leap up and attack him. The human obviously hadn’t been expecting this either…

He looked back at Rahzar, the barely living remains of the mutant who’d once been Chris Bradford, star of the lamest morning cartoon action-show ever, founder of the ‘Bradford Dojos’ chain secretly used to recruit Foot ninja, and protégé of his father’s mortal enemy. 

Bradford, the man who once used his celebrity status to win over his baby brother just so he could use him as bait to lure them all out of hiding. The man who’d then been mutated into Dogpound who’d abducted April, who’d strung Donatello and Mikey up like piñatas in a warehouse, who’d tried to set the sewers of New York on FIRE just to try and smoke Donnie’s family out of their home and into the Shredder’s claws. Then as Rahzar, he’d tried to kill Donnie and his brothers again and again, with no concern for who got in the crossfire! Shell, he even sided with the Kraang during the invasion of New York just so his psychopathic Master could fulfill some deranged vendetta, and _NOW_ after all of it, after every violent and near death experience, every drop of blood shed because of him, he had the audacity to beg Donatello for mercy!?

He narrowed his eyes down at the twitching bones, a surge of bitterness and anger swirling up inside him. Why the shell should he save such a worthless monster?

If the tables had been turned, if Rahzar stood where R1-13 did, staring down at a half-dead turtle begging for mercy, he’d laugh. The canine would cackle and snort, insult him, then leave Thirteen to rot…

R1-13 turned away, searching for the computers and oh so ready to leave Shredder’s henchmen to die, when something stopped him. It was a voice, a familiar soft voice that whispered in the back of his mind; 

_‘In times of peace, never forget the possibility of war; in times of war, never forget compassion.’_

Splinter…

What would Sensei think of him if he could see him now, witness what his son was about to do? Witness…what Donatello had become?

His fists clenched.

Was he really going to ignore all of his father’s teachings? Was he truly so far gone that there was nothing of Donatello left, only the monster R1-13 that the scientists had turned him into?

Donatello swallowed hard and looked back at the barely living remains of Rahzar and felt something familiar. Pity… Enemy or not, not even Bradford deserved this kind of suffering. 

Without a word he plucked the scalpel from Williams’ shaking hand, twisting it once, then twice as he readied himself for what he was about to do. 

“W-what are you?” Williams began, but stopped as Thirteen walked over to the table where the wheezing skull was still watching, still pleading for a quick end.

Donatello looked down at the organs, laid out neatly on the trays. He could stab the heart and slice the lungs, but that wouldn’t be quick, it wouldn’t even have a guarantee of working, let alone being painless. His gaze drifted over the liver, kidneys, the brain…

The brain. Every zombie movie said to go for the head, surely not even Rahzar could survive damage to the central core?

“Your secondary mutation is so unusual that it means I can’t guarantee a pain-free death,” said Thirteen, his voice monotone and so low that he barely recognized it as his own, “I just hope I’ll be able to make it quick for you.”

The lungs expanded, and the boney jaws cracked one last time. “Th-ank Y-ou.” Rasped Rahzar, his golden eyes looking so weary, yet relived. “Tha-”

Quick as a flash R1-13 plunged the scalpel down with precision straight into the brain’s frontal lobe, spearing through it as though it were Jell-O, straight down into what he only hoped was the thalamus and then medulla; the parts of the brain that controlled motor and organ function.

The bones twitched, his words becoming nothing but a wisp of escaping air, as the golden eyes that had begged for reprieve shivered in their sockets and went still.

Knowing that wasn’t enough to ensure Rahzar was truly dead, R1-13 tossed the scalpel down across the table and turned to the cabinets. What felt like a lifetime of searching, in reality, only took him a moment to find what he was looking for; a small container of bleach. He was moving without realizing it, his mind slow and barely able to keep up while the world sped like lightning around him. His limbs felt too heavy, and his heart, it clenched inside, struggling to accept that he’d just killed someone for no other reason than they’d asked.

“Uh, R1-13?” Called Williams uneasily as the shell-shocked turtle made his way back to the bones.

Thirteen barely heard him. “Cover your mouth and nose and hold your breath.” Said the turtle dully, as he unscrewed the cap and held the container of bleach up over the open vat of acetone.

“Thirteen!?” Snapped Williams, slightly hysterical, “What the hell are you doing?!”

Not bothering to wait and see if the human had listened, Thirteen mumbled out the word, “Chloroform.” Before holding his own breath, and poured the container of bleach into the mix.

He heard feet scamper behind him as he set the empty container down, but didn’t look as he grabbed the tray containing the now mutilated remains of Rahzar’s brain and dumped it into the bath. 

If by some small chance Rahzar’s mutant brain had survived the stabbing, at least this way his skull and lungs would be exposed to the fumes, ensuring he remained unconscious and unaware while his brain was submerged in the chemical bath, going through the process of dehydration, and then, eventually, deterioration.

Burying his nose and mouth in his arm, Thirteen backed away from the table, his gaze drifting over the lifeless organs just to be sure they were in fact no longer moving, before he turned his attention back to Williams.

The blond was standing close by, swaying a little, pale, and maybe a bit green, with a small respirator mask pressed over his nose and mouth. Another mask was in his shaking hand, held out for Thirteen. He looked about ready to faint, and R1-13 doubted the fumes were the reason why.

Accepting the mask, he put it over his own nose and mouth before hooking his free arm under Williams, half-dragging half-leading the queasy human over to where the computers were. He didn’t have time to wait for the human to get himself together, for Thirteen still had one last gruesome task to perform before they could finally escape this living nightmare.

“Get me into the computer.” Said Thirteen softly, his voice still low and monotone as he plopped the young man into a chair behind the desk, “Go as far as you can and I’ll take it from there.”

Still shaking like a leaf, Williams nodded and quickly began to type across the keyboard. It didn’t take him long before he was in the system, allowing Thirteen to take over.

It felt strange for him to be at a computer again, the blood flaking off his skin as his fingers flew across the keys, typing in commands that would simultaneously save and take life, innocent life, life that had yet to grow, yet to live, yet to take commands, yet to kill for their creators…

His whole body tensed as he hacked the system’s complex programming, diving deeper and deeper into the sick world the scientists lived in. He found the pods, found the programming to keep their bodies functioning, and with a simple re-work of coding, he overloaded and terminated every single one with the simple press of a key.

It was so devastatingly simple.

He stared at the computer screen as the little codes that stood for each infant blipped out of existence, one hand on his mask, the other still hovering over the keyboard, and felt absolutely nothing…

It was shock, or maybe even a form of denial. Yes, he’d taken lives for the last few hours, yes he’d killed human after human while being a prisoner in this hellhole, but that was all in self-defense, or for the sake of self-preservation. This, this wasn’t in self-defense, or for self-preservation, it was just…cold.

He was taking life to prevent it from one day being used to take more life, killing innocent little beings unable to function on their own, unable to move, unable to live without an order. Murdering them, _his_ , possible children all because of the twisted ideals of power-hungry men…

No. He narrowed his eyes at the screen and began to type in a different set of code. What he’d done would truly sink in and affect him later, but right now there was no way he was letting any of this happen again.

“What are you doing?” Asked Williams over his shoulder, his voice muffled from his mask, “We only have nineteen minutes left before they regain control of security and open all the doors again. We have to get going!”

“This will only take me three.” Murmured Thirteen through his mask, his fingers still flying and determined across the keys. “I’m wiping out everything, and making sure this never happens again. Everything online or hooked up to it will be gone, all their notes, their samples, their work, everything. They won’t be allowed to do this again!”

He growled under his breath as he dug through the system, typing in long chunks of coding as quickly as he could. This was something he _had_ to do.

A loud crack against metal echoed around the room, and he paused in his typing. Both he and Williams looked curiously up, following the sound to the main entrance that had been barricaded with two large filling cabinets. Something heavy cracked into it again, and this time Williams jumped.

“Shit.” He whispered under his breath, then shot for his belt. “They must’ve figured out the code. Or some of them may have gotten out.”

“Out?” Repeated Thirteen, “You mean mutants?”

“No…” Said Williams darkly, and pulled out a large silver hand gun. He checked its clip and counted the bullets before he slapped it back together, “People.”

The bang sounded again, and this time R1-13 could make out the sounds of raised voices. 

Not wasting any time, he dove back at the keyboard, rushing the coding as much as he dared in an attempt to get it done, when the world around him exploded.

The door flew from its hinges, sending the filing cabinets through the air. Glass shattered around them, and the room burst with smoke and dust as Thirteen was knocked clean from his chair. 

He grunted as he slammed into the ground, bits of metal and broken glass raining down atop his shell and bouncing off the tile around him. His mask was nearly lost, but he was able to hang onto it. “Williams!” He yelled, and gunshots filled the air.

Cursing under his breath he coughed and scrambled upright to his knees, crawling back in the direction of the desk despite the ringing in his ears. He slipped on some glass, its sharp end digging into his already abused palm, but he didn’t stop. The desk came into view through the smoke, the keyboard and screen dangling off its side by a few wires but were otherwise unharmed.

One click and the screen shivered back to life, his code still waiting to be completed. “Shell, shell, shell!” He mumbled, snatching up the keyboard. 

“Chemical agent in the room!” Someone bellowed, and whooshing sound filled the air from above.

His fingers slipped as blood flowed across the plastic keys, his heart pounding about as loudly as the shots that filled the air around him. He knew deep down that he’d never get the full code typed out in time, but he could do something else, he could re-work its purpose, and instead of attacking _all_ of the system’s programming, he could simplify it, and take out everything that he had already targeted; ending at least half of the evil men’s work.

“Williams, damnit!” A male voice snarled, “Put it down, put it-”

The voice was silenced with a bang, and Thirteen felt something brush against his arm. He whipped around, ready to slam the keyboard into whoever it was, only to recognize the blood-stained coat of Williams. 

“I’m running out of bullets!” Yelped the young human, the air becoming clearer around them, “They’re using real guns, not darts. We’re not getting out of this!”

“Yes we are!” Snapped Thirteen, returning to his work. “Just stay with me and I’ll get us out.” He typed in one last string of commands. “How many are there?”

Then a shot erupted through the air, louder and closer than the others, and Williams let out a pain filled scream. The young human collapsed on the spot, glass skittering away on impact, and clutched at his gut. 

“Williams!” Yelled R1-13.

Someone stomped across the tile, quick and with purpose, and Thirteen frantically dove at the keyboard again, clicking the one button that would activate his code, right as the screen went black.

“No!” He yelped as the computer crashed down beside him, the few wires that had been holding it having been cut. 

Electricity crackled from above, and instinct had Thirteen diving out of its way. “Williams!” He yelled, avoiding a shock stick by inches. He clawed his way to his feet, lunging for the crying form of the human who’d helped him when another gunshot rang through the air.

R1-13’s leg buckled out from beneath him as pain flooded his mind. He slammed down hard, glass slicing at his cheek as he skidded and his respirator mask slipped free. His vision swam, and he knew he was injured. Pain radiated up his spine but he refused to scream, his teeth clenching as warm sticky wet ran down his thigh. He could feel the presence of his enemy moving in, and he hissed, as loud and violently as he could despite his lack of vission.

He tried to scramble up, his hands brandished and ready to claw at anyone that came near, when something cold slapped around his neck and slammed him back down. Cold metal clasped around his wrists one at a time and smacked them to the tile, forcing him still.

Snarling he attempted to kick out, but the moment he moved, electricity crackled to life, and his whole body twitched. He fought the convulsions the best he could, but he was too weak and in too much pain, and the moment the electricity stopped, he flopped limply in his restraints, panting up at three large men all dressed in Kevlar suits, silently praying that they’d make his end quick.

“Now, that’s enough of _that._ Struggling will only make this worse.” Sang a honeyed voice, one that tugged at Thirteen’s attention. He tried to turn his head to see who was talking, when the clamp around his neck tightened and the man holding it spat out a warning.

“Williams, Williams. Why did I know you’d be a part of this?” Continued the voice over Williams’ cries, “Now, since we both know that you are no computer expert, why don’t you do us both a favor and tell me who set the virus up in my lab’s security system? You know, the one that made it look like a simple, fixable, tiny, little, glitch, that has had my people running in circles for months!” The man’s voice became a roar, and Williams’ groans became short pain riddled cries.

Thirteen’s heart clenched and he pulled at the restraints. “Stop it!” He choked, “Leave him alo-“ but the clamps tightened, cutting off not only his speech but his air.

He struggled out of reflex to breath, Williams’ cries turning into tortured screams and begs for mercy as whoever had been talking did _shell only knew what_ , to the boy.

His vision began to swim, and finally the clamp around his neck loosened enough to allow him to breathe.

Thirteen gasped in lungfuls of sweet precious air, his gaze finding the Kevlar covered men above him. “Asshole…” He choked, “He’s, being, tortured.”

“Oh?” Called the voice over Williams’ cries, “Does this bother you, turtle? Here, let me fix that for you.”

BANG.

Thirteen nearly jumped out of his shell as the gunshot echoed around the room. A woman screamed, and an awful choking sound filled the air.

“How’s that?” Asked the voice, and the clamp around Thirteen’s neck shifted, forcing his head to turn. 

What he saw stopped his breath all over again. 

Williams was laying on his back, eyes wide in shock, with the handle of a scalpel sticking out of his stomach and blood spurting from his nose and mouth with every gargling gasp for air he’d never get.

Thirteen struggled again despite the pain and warnings from those who held him. “No!” He yelled, “Wh-why!? You can’t get information from him like that, y-you…” But as his gaze traveled up, landing on the man who’d shot the young doctor, he realized that words would do absolutely nothing for either of them now.

The man standing above Williams was smiling, watching R1-13 as the young doctor at his feet choked on his own blood. He had hair that burned red, and wild green eyes that seemed far too pleased about the situation before him. 

“I’ll find whoever it is that helped him.” Whispered the man, crossing bloodied hands behind his back, “I always do. Besides, it’s not like he was going to tell me, anyway. Might as well allow him to ponder his life choices while he dies, instead of listening to him list off false names.”

He took a step forward, ignoring Williams’ fading gasps, his smile widening as he bent down to view Thirteen. “I’ve heard quite a lot about you, R1-13. You’ve been causing me quite the headache.”

“I sure hope so.” Thirteen growled, his gaze flicking from Williams, twitching slightly, back to the man who’d shot him. “Let me go and I’ll see about fixing your headache _permanently_.” 

The man chuckled, his head tilting, and whispered, “You killed my favorite subject, freed most of the mutants in the facility, and…”

“All.” Thirteen hissed at him, a slight swell of pride going through him at his words. “Williams and I, freed _all_ of them.” 

“S-sir.” Came a woman’s voice, one that set a growl in Thirteen’s throat as he recognized the bitch from hell. “Wohrd just came in. Pods one tru dirty-seven have ceased function.”

The red-headed man’s smile twitched, but didn’t falter. “What?” He asked, his gaze burning into R1-13’s.

“A virus of some kind, sah.” Answered Ariel, “Ramirez has da details. And it, may have also wiped out half our system, as well as ovahridden and destroyed da DNA samples used spehcifically fohr infancy prrogaram.”

With his gaze still locked on Thirteen, the man finally frowned. 

“Well.” He said softly, “Congratulations then, R1-13. My name is Dr. Grail, the founder of this facility, and you, are now officially my new favorite subject.”


	24. Ch. 24

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings:   
> Bad flashback/disturbing nightmare

Donatello hummed happily from underneath the warm blanket. It was soft, inviting, and above all it didn’t feel scratchy like the straw, or stiff like the couch. There was a presence beside him, one he’d grown accustomed to waking up beside; Leonardo.

Every night now he’d make his way to Leo’s room and wait outside the door. Raph was still doing shell knew what in Donnie’s old lab, refusing to come out, and Mikey had taken to hiding in his bedroom or in the lab with Raph to try and coax him back out, leaving the lair suddenly feeling rather lonely. 

He had Ice-cream Kitty for company throughout the day when Leo wasn’t around, her little ice cube mansion nearing completion, and that by itself was company enough. She had a schedule to keep, and with Mikey suddenly neglecting his duties as a mutant pet owner, it fell on Donatello to care for her throughout the day, which was also a very good distraction from his family, and their attempts to draw him in.

Master Splinter still came out and mediated in the main room with Leo, morning, afternoon, and night, then had tea with Casey, April, and Leo in-between. His father, kind and gentle, never cross, always offered for Donatello to join them. Donnie never could find it in himself to accept, but… Sometimes they sure did look like they were having fun.

But at night, when he got to curl up beneath the sheets with Leo tucked up against him, feel his warmth, taste his lips, and feel unbelievably safe and wanted, it made the loneliness during the day absolutely worth it. Mornings were the same, with kind lips and gentle touches that asked permission to hold and brush against his skin…

Donatello hummed again and shifted in the sheets, pressing up closer to the warm body beside him. “Good morning.” He whispered, when a gargled wheeze reached his ear.

His eyes snapped open at the sound. “Leo?” He called, bolting up off his pillow, only to find himself inches away from dark blue eyes and a turtle’s skull that had been stripped of its flesh.

He screeched at the sight, floundering up and away from the wide painful eyes that followed, but the blankets that Donnie had been under wrapped around his wrists and stopped him. He struggled and pulled with all his might, but the blankets ripped him back, slamming him down against the bed that suddenly felt far too hard.

“Let go, _let go!_ Leo, help!” But all that answered was a chuckle, a dark sadistic one that sent every nerve he had on edge. The blankets twisted, warping into leather cuffs that snapped tight against the table.

“I told you~” Sang a voice, and the de-fleshed skull of Leonardo rose like a puppet on a string, “I _told_ you I’d find them. I _told_ you I’d use them to make you suffer.”

Grail, loomed in from the darkness, his smile just as twisted as Donatello remembered. “No!” Donnie screeched, thrashing and pulling with all his might as Leo’s skull loomed closer, his dark blue eyes begging for mercy just as Rahzar’s had. 

“No, no…” One of his arms ripped free, and it was everything Donnie could do to try and claw his way away. “Let go!” He yelled, scrambling across the metal.

“No.” Growled Grail, “Stop fighting, just relax.”

“No, don’t touch me!” Screeched Donnie.

This couldn’t be happening, not again, where was the rest of his family?! 

“Raph! Mikey! Sensei! Somebody, help me!”

“Wake up.”

“Help!!”

“Donnie, _wake up!_ ”

Very slowly, the table he was clawing at blurred into a dark grey floor, a heavy weight crushing him against the concrete as he was forced still.

“Wha-” Donnie gasped, his whole body shivering as he continued to fight. 

“What’s happening? Where-?”

“Just wake up, Donnie. It’s ok.” Grunted a voice above him, and his brain clicked, registering Leonardo’s voice. “I’m here, I’m right here, just wake up.”

Still shaking from head to toe, Donnie struggled to crane his neck and see, but the weight just shifted, forcing him still. “Leo?” Donnie whimpered, silently praying it was actually him, “Let go. Please…”

“Can you promise you won’t attack me again?” Answered Leo, his breath tickling the back of Donatello’s neck.

Donnie nodded, his eyes still wide and heart pounding from the dream. “I’m awake.”

The heavy weight lifted, and the moment Donatello felt himself being released, he scrambled to his hands and knees and shuffled away across the floor. He found a corner and crammed himself in it, a spot between Leo’s bed and a trunk his big brother used as a nightstand, then whipped around.

Sure enough he found Leo, kneeling on the floor a little ways away rubbing at his cheek where a red welt was now forming. 

“I’m so sorry.” Whispered Donatello, still shaking like a leaf, “I didn’t mean- I’m sorry, I’m sorry, it was just a dream, I should’ve known, I-”

“Donnie, really,” Sighed Leo without moving. He looked up, offering a weak smile before he said softly, “It’s ok. You out of everyone we know, has the right to have violent nightmares. It was my fault anyway, I-”

Donatello tried to interrupt, but Leo kept talking.

“Should’ve known better. I tried to wake you up, when we’ve always just let you wake up on your own. It probably triggered the episode.” He sighed again and pointed at the trunk Donatello had crammed himself next to. “Raph made you coffee this morning, and I just wanted to give you some while it was still hot.”

Slowly Donnie looked up just above him, and found a steaming red mug sitting atop Leo’s trunk. Guilt lanced through him at the sight, and he closed his eyes with a heavy sigh.

“I’m so sorry.” He said again, thunking his head against the cold concrete. “Memories are playing with my dreams and messing with my head. I should have better control over this, but my mind…”

This time he heard Leonardo move, slowly creeping closer as one would if they were approaching a frightened animal. It was humiliating. 

“I’m fine.” Donnie continued, refusing to look at his brother and acknowledge the lengths Leo was taking just to try and keep Donatello comfortable. “It’s just a psychological response. I’ll be able to overcome it. Mind over matter, you know.”

He felt Leo draw closer, and knew that his touch would soon come, yet still he flinched like a terrified child when his brother’s fingers brush gently against his arm.

“I’ll be fine.” Whispered Donatello, as Leo pulled in close, wrapping his arms around Donnie in a warm protective hug.

“I know you will.” Murmured Leo into his neck, and Donnie felt the older turtle’s lips brush softly against his shoulder into an encouraging smile, “Here, why don’t you have some coffee? Raph made it just the way you like it. Black, with the consistency of mud.”

Leo pulled the coffee mug closer, and Donatello gratefully accepted it, not because he wanted to drink it, but because he wanted more than anything to show Leonardo he was ok. 

“So, Raph’s finally coming out of the lab then?” Asked Donnie as he pulled the mug in close, “That’s good. That means you two are talking again, right?”

Leo seemed to hesitate, his smile fading as he contemplated his next words carefully, and then sighed. “He’s going to need some time to cool off.” He said quietly, “He still resents that I didn’t stand up to your snake friend that night. And since we can’t go topside, he has very few options available to vent. And, since he’s upset with me at the moment, even fewer than he had before.” 

Letting out a groan, Donnie looked down at his coffee, his guilt slowly growing. “I’m sure him knowing I’m in here isn’t helping things.” He murmured, “I’ll go back to sleeping in the main room. I don’t want to get between the two of you and make you feel as though you have to choose. I-”

A gentle brush of fingers cut him off as they trailed across his plastron, pulling his attention up off of his coffee and up onto his big brother.

“He’s mad at me.” Said Leo, his smile returned. “What else is new? Just because we’re lovers doesn’t mean we’re not brothers anymore. We’re going to get into fights, we’re going to disagree, and when I keep him from punching your friend in the face, he’s going to get his tail in a twist about it.” 

His hand trailed up, gliding along Donatello’s neck to cup the taller turtle’s chin.

Donnie breathed in deep and exhaled slowly, closing his eyes to relish the tenderness, and felt himself lean into the touch instead of flinching away for once. He felt Leo shift closer, his breath tickling until their noses brushed.

“You’re not getting between any of us.” Leo promised, “I just need to pin Raphael down and talk to him, that’s all. It may take a day or two but he’ll come around. He always does.”

“Then why haven’t you yet?” Countered Donatello. A slight pause greeted his question, and Donnie knew he was right. He _was_ in the way. 

“Promise you’ll fix it.” He whispered before Leo could answer, “Please? I don’t want you to lose what you have because you’re too busy with me.”

Leo huffed in annoyance but didn’t seem willing to argue. Instead he nodded, the brief irritation quickly replaced with Leo’s typical calm levelheadedness. 

“Alright.” He agreed, far sooner than Donnie had anticipated. “I promise. As long as you do something for me in return.”

Donnie’s eyes snapped open, finding his brother’s dark blue gaze but an inch away. Since when had Leo become such an annoying negotiator?

“I’m not going into the lab, if that’s what you want.” He said quickly, a slight growl sounding behind his words to emphasize his point.

Leo shook his head, leaning in until their foreheads touched. “No.” He said gently, “Not the lab. Something much more important.”

Curiously, Donnie searched his brother’s eyes, finding nothing but Leo’s usual calm and collected stare.

“It’s Mikey.” Leo continued, and Donnie stiffened. “Ever since your capture he’s been, well, _different._ Usually I’d send him to Sensei, but, we already did, and it doesn’t seem to have helped.”

“But, you’re close now?” Murmured Donnie, “You and Raph can talk to him better than before, can’t you?”

Leo shook his head. “We’ve tried.” He admitted, “But it’s always the same. Fake smiles, saying that he’s fine, it’s a forced act that we can both see right through. Sensei says that Michelangelo is, in a way, wounded, and needs to heal, but that we aren’t the ones who can take away the hurt this time. He believes that Mikey needs you.”

“Me?” Repeated Donnie, “But-”

“Mikey thinks _he’s_ the reason why you were captured, Donnie. That he should’ve been taken instead of you, and that everything that’s happened to you so far is because of him.”

Pulling away slightly, Donnie shook his head incredulously. “What? N-no, I-” 

Leo reached out and pulled him close again, looking anything but calm this time. He was worried, his eyeridges knitted together and his eyes glinting with unease.

“He wants to do anything he can to help you.” He continued, “Even if it means torturing himself in the process.”

Donatello froze. His eyes narrowed, “Torture?” He asked, “What do you mean? He’s not hurting himself or…”

Leo shook his head, “No, not physically. But April did catch him making copies of some of your files, we believe he still has them, but Raph and I never found anything. Then he started locking himself up in his room, and now I’m worried about more than just Raph brooding.”

Every inch of Donatello tensed, his eyes widened, fixing on Leo like he’d just noticed him sitting there for the very first time. “What?” He murmured, “Why the _shell_ would he be anywhere near them? It’s bad enough _you_ were nosing around through them. The things that are in those files- he won’t even begin to understand! And what if there’s pictures?!” 

With a shake of his head, Donatello pulled away and went to stand, his heart pounding hard against his plastron. There was no way in shell he was going to let Mikey go through those files anymore than he already had.

Leo let him stand but followed him to his feet, remaining close. “Mikey doesn’t need to be yelled at. You know that, right?” He asked softly, “He just needs help, and Sensei thinks you can give it to him.”

Nodding, Donnie gripped his coffee tighter and held Leo’s gaze. “You go make up with Raph and get him out of the lab. I’ll take care of Mikey and see about getting those files away from him. Hopefully I’ll find out what’s gotten into that turtle. None of this was his fault. The shell-head should know that already.”

He was frustrated, his fear of what Mikey could’ve read, how much he could’ve understood or worse, what he could’ve _misunderstood_ , fueling him with a newfound determination to find his little brother. Why Mikey would ever think what those humans did was his fault was beyond him.

“Thank you.” Said Leo, giving Donnie’s shoulder a quick squeeze. “I’ll try and drag Raph out for afternoon tea, ok?”

“And I’ll try and drag Mikey out too.” Donnie agreed, “He’s been neglecting Ice-cream Kitty and it’s about time he came out and gave her a whipped cream bath. It shouldn’t solely be my responsibility.” He huffed, trying to pretend he couldn’t see the edges of Leo’s lips twitching up into an amused smirk. 

Leo’s smile widened, though he did seem to be doing his best to control his amusement. His fingers entwined with Donnie’s free hand, and again Leo leaned in until their noses touched, an awkward angle for Leonardo due to Donnie’s greater height, but Donatello gladly bent to meet him, awaiting what he knew would come next. 

It was a kiss, gentle and sweet, one that sent shivers up Donatello’s spine. He loved the tender moments between them, regardless of how long or little they lasted. Leo was his leader, firm yet gentle, his brother, loving and understanding, and if Donatello wanted, Leo could be more, and nothing like those bastard men who had touched and tortured him. That alone, was amazing to feel.

With his blanket back around his shoulders, he and Leonardo parted ways at the door, the eldest retreating down the hall towards the lab while Donatello turned his attention to Mikey’s room.

He knocked against the cold metal and almost instantly heard his little brother reply, though it wasn’t with his typical happy tone.

“What?!”

Donnie hesitated at the harshness of Mikey’s greeting, but called out to him regardless. “It’s me.” He said, his confidence wavering some. “I was wondering if I could come in? Talk with you, maybe?”

The door handle jiggled before he even finished and Mikey’s head popped out. The familiar shade of orange surrounding bright blue eyes looked up and met Donatello's own bare reddish brown, melting away Donnie’s remaining frustration from earlier until there was nothing left but deep concern. 

Dark, puffy circles sat under Mikey’s bloodshot eyes, his gaze wide and worried instead of bright and happy.

He looked Donnie up and down then retreated back inside, slamming the door shut with an audible click of its lock. 

“Hang on!” Yelled Mikey from the other side, “Just a second!”

Donatello blinked, his mind a blank wall of fuzz as he stared at the door that had just been slammed in his face and then locked. Had Mikey really just shut him out? 

A rustling sound and then a thud was what snapped him out of it, throwing his brain into an overload of possibilities. Had Mikey already read too much and now feared him? Was he trying to escape through some sort of hatch or vent to keep away from the vicious Franken-turtle? Or was he frantically trying to hide something he wasn’t supposed to have…?

“Mikey?” Called Donnie, rapping his knuckles against the metal once more. “What are you doing? Are you ok?”

“I’m fine!” Called Mikey over the shuffling sounds, “Just uh, um, making the room nice! Uh, cleaning up pizza sauce! I um, spilled some last night. Don’t come in yet, it’s _way_ messy!”

Donnie cocked an eyeridge at the door as the unmistakable sounds of paper rustling sounded from the other side. “Mikey…” 

Yup, Mikey was most definitely hiding things he shouldn’t have.

Letting out a huff, Donnie gripped the handle and leaned against it, cocked the weight of the door to the left, then gave the bottom right side a good kick. It popped open in his hand, and like always when he or his brothers truly needed to get in, he was grateful that he never fixed that particular defect.

“Mikey what are you doing?” He asked as he pushed his way in, only to stop dead in his tracks in at the sight of his little brother’s room, or, what he _thought_ was his brother’s room…

The entire space, once littered with pizza boxes and trash, childish movie posters and toys, and a disturbing life-size cardboard cut-out of Chris Bradford, had been turned into a massive map of the city, one that stretched from floor to ceiling with bright red x’s and lines that dotted it. 

Mikey was in the far corner, kneeling beside a suitcase that had been stuffed full with papers and, to Donatello’s surprise, Donnie’s old laptop that appeared to have been shoved haphazardly into its center. He’d frozen, his arms full of wrinkled papers with his eyes wide like a metaphorical deer caught in the headlights.

“W-what’s all this?” Asked Donnie, barely able to register what looked more like a set from a dramatic Criminal Investigation T.V. show than a bedroom.

“Nothing.” Said Mikey quickly, and shoved the papers deep into his suitcase then slapped its lid shut. “It’s ah, um, a pizza delivery map? They got a new guy and-”

“This is from when you all were looking for me, isn’t it?” Asked Donnie, glancing over the red x’s and scribbles in awe at the lengths his brothers had taken. “But why your room? Why didn’t you guys put this up in the lab?”

He looked back to his little brother in time to see him hesitate. “Raph and Leo, they…” Mikey began, before he huffed and zipped up the suitcase. “They did their own thing to find you, and I did mine. They didn’t exactly help…”

Donnie glanced at the suitcase Mikey was now sliding under his bed and then back at his little brother. “Is that what you’re doing with my files then?” He asked, “You’re doing something on your own again?”

Mikey stiffened, his blue eyes whipping up onto Donnie like he’d been caught sneaking into Sensei’s cheese-cicle stash. 

“M-maybe you shouldn’t be in here.” Said Mikey uneasily, his gaze quickly flickering down to the floor. “It could cause triggers, nightmares… That sorta stuff. I’ll meet you outside in a-”

“But what could you possibly think you’re doing now?” Asked Donnie, so lost in his own thought he hardly heard his brother speak, “Having these notes isn’t going to help anyone do anything except maybe start a fire. Besides, It’s not like you can even understand what’s written on them, those notes are useless to you.”

“I’m not stupid.” Murmured Mikey under his breath.

Donatello rolled his eyes in exasperation. “I never said you were.” He sighed, “Look, just let me have the files and-”

“No.” 

Finally, Mikey looked up from the floor, the dark circles under his eyes more prominent than ever as he glared over at Donatello. “Raph and Leo said that the only way to help you is to understand what happened, and since you don’t want to talk about it, this is the only way to find out.”

Donnie felt a familiar sense of aggression rising to the surface at his brother’s defiance. Those were _his_ files, _his_ problem, _his_ choice to keep them private. What the shell was digging through the past supposed to accomplish other than hurting everyone?!

“You don’t _need_ to find out! None of you do!” Snapped Donnie, his temper now at a full boil. “Especially not you!”

“And why not!?” Spat Mikey, his voice beginning to rise, “You think I can’t handle it? Well, guess again dude, I can handle a lot! I already know a lot of what those monsters did, more than Leo and Raph! Just like last time.”

Donnie clenched his coffee mug and blanket tighter in an attempt to reel some of his anger in before he said something he’d regret. “Mikey-” he began, but to his surprise his little brother cut him off.

“I’m not stupid!” The youngest practically yelled, “If I don’t get something then I look it up. It’s not that hard! I know what you’ve been through and I just want to help. I, I…” He looked away as his voice cracked, a sound that batted away Donatello’s frustration in seconds. He’d been right, Michelangelo _had_ read too much…

“You let Leo help.” Continued Mikey.

“Mikey, I,” Murmured Donnie, fighting to come up with words, “Look, that was different. You-”

“I know what you’ve been through!” Repeated Mikey, his voice still cracking. He looked up, tears forming at the edges of his eyes, but he didn’t look sad, no, if anything he looked almost determined. “I know about how you’ve been tortured.”  
Donnie cringed. “Mikey…”

“I know they used you to get eggs out of those gross worm things!” Continued Mikey, “That you had to watch one of your friends burn to death. That you were raped.”

“Mikey!” Donnie snapped, “Please. _Enough._ You know what the humans did, I understand.”

“Not just the humans.” He heard Mikey whisper, his voice trembling, “I know about the mutant, the one they drugged and put in the same cage as you…”

Donatello flinched, his heart tensing and twisting beneath his plastron as he locked sights with his little brother. Neither of them moved or said a word, the two of them in a strange sort of standoff; him, mortified at what the youngest, of all turtles, knew, and Mikey, teary eyed and staring up at him like his life depended on it.

After a while, it was Mikey who broke the silence. “I’m not stupid.” He said through a sniffle, “And I’m not weak.”

“I…” Donnie swallowed uneasily, his mouth dry, and looked anywhere but at the orange banded turtle. “I never said-”

“You threw me out of the way.”

Confused at the sudden conversation change, Donnie glanced up at Mikey still kneeling in the corner of his room, “What?”

“It should’ve been me.” Whimpered Mikey, his hands tightening into fists. “Everything they did to you, everything they put you through. It all should’ve been me!” His face cracked, and tears began to flow readily down his cheeks, “Why did you do it, dude, why?! I could’ve handled it; I could’ve taken all of it, but instead you, you…”

Donatello had never moved so fast. His coffee was on the floor and blanket forgotten in seconds as he dropped to his knees and wrapped his arms around his youngest brother. Forget his fear of physical contact, Michelangelo, right then and there, was the only thing that mattered.

“Don’t you say that.” Snapped Donnie, hugging him tight to his plastron, “Don’t you _ever_ say that again. None of us should’ve been captured by them, you understand me?” But all it seemed to do was make Mikey cry even harder.

“You got hurt because of me!” He sobbed, clutching onto Donatello like a life line, eyes scrunched tight in a pointless attempt to staunch his tears. “If I hadn’t been hit by that dart then-”

“Michelangelo!” Donnie pulled away just enough to face his brother head on, “You listen to me, and you listen good. If I had to go back and re-live that moment over again, knowing what I know now, I’d throw myself before those hunters every single time just to make sure you all got away.”

With his eyes still closed, Mikey hiccupped and shook his head. “But Raph and, and L-Leo-”

“I’d throw them out of the way too.” Said Donnie firmly, “Every. Single. Time.” 

Ever so gently he reached out and cupped the bottom of Mikey’s chin, tilting his head up. “I don’t think you’re weak.” He said softly, “And I don’t think you’re stupid. I think you’re hurting, and blaming yourself over something that was beyond your control.”

“I-I’m sorry.” Sniffled Mikey, finally cracking his tired and puffy eyes, “I just, you love Leo and, and I just wanted to make it better, to help you, so you’ll love me too.”

If Donatello’s heart hadn’t broken already, it was certainly in pieces now. Without thinking, he leaned in, pressing his lips against Mikey’s in a quick but reassuring kiss before pulling away slowly, “I’ll always love you.” He whispered, “Always.”

Mikey shivered and sniffed back tears as Donnie pulled him back in. The younger turtle buried his face in Donatello’s neck, and Donnie could feel him shaking.

“You want to help me?” Asked Donnie, and Mikey nodded against his neck, “Then do me a favor, ok? Stop reading through those files. I’ll…” He paused, realizing what he was about to say, and took a deep breath, “I’ll talk to you if you really want to know. I’ll- I’ll tell you everything. Just please, stop beating yourself up.”

Again Mikey nodded against his neck. “Ok.” He said softly. He sniffled again and wiped a little at his eyes, quietly collecting himself in Donatello’s firm embrace before he seemed to pluck up the courage to speak. “Could you, maybe stay with me tonight?” He asked softly, “Like you’ve been doing with Leo?” And all Donnie found himself able to do was smile and hug the young turtle closer. 

“Absolutely.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Phew...  
> Got it done!! Took me long enough right? Ikara is the lifesaver here, er...I mean she's the chapter saver. Literally.   
> So, for those of you who are unaware, I am very much pregnant. Like, in four weeks i'll be pushing out a baby pregnant. It has caused some issues with getting the chapters written in a timely manner, as i'm sure you've all noticed.   
> What does this mean? This means that i'll be working on my fics, but if you don't see an update for a while (as in a month) don't get discouraged. I'll just be busy with baby and healing. I have no intent on abandoning anything and hope to pick up speed again after April, I promise! :D


	25. Ch 25

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: blood gore and torture.

It had been days since he’d freed his fellow mutants, possibly weeks, he wasn’t sure. Most of his wounds had healed, the bullet wound in his leg the only thing left of his experience, and while normally he’d use that as a time frame, that was no longer applicable. With his accelerated healing rate and the drugs they’d pumped into his system, the time it took to heal up meant absolutely nothing.

Surprisingly, the man known as Dr. Grail never came to see him, or even request to have him pulled out for examination while he was healing. Only the monster’s minions came, and even that was sporadic. The foolish humans must’ve been underestimating him, assuming R1-13 would grow complacent or perhaps cooperative if given reprieve.

Shell help them all when they finally did come for him… _If_ they ever came for him…

At least he was alone most of the time, a blessing in disguise, for it meant his friends hadn’t been recaptured. Or at least, that’s what he _hoped_ it meant. 

It also gave him time, time to imagine, to daydream, and drift into the arms of those he knew would never harm him. 

He churred softly from the corner of his cage, his carapace to the door. He could see and feel Raphael wrapped around him from behind, Leonardo pressed up against him from the front, while Michelangelo squeezed himself in between Leo and Donnie’s legs…

_“Shh, not too loud.” Leo purred to him as he nuzzled and kissed at his cheek, “You don’t want Sensei to hear~”_

_No, no he didn’t want Sensei to hear. If their father did, he would grow curious, and follow the sounds of pleasure, only find the youngest in such a provocative position. Not that Michelangelo seemed to mind, if his cheerful humming around his brother’s cock was any indication._

_Donnie buried his face in Leonardo’s neck to muffle his moans as the skilled mouth between his legs bobbed up and down._

_“Oh shell…” He whispered as the pleasure swirled within his gut, tightening into a fiery coil that begged to release. Donnie churred into Leo’s shoulder, curling into his eldest brother’s plastron while Raph’s grip tightened around him._

_“Come on~” Raph growled teasingly in his ear, “Better hurry before we’re caught. If Mikey can’t get you off, you know I can. My mouth is better than his anyway. Maybe I should take over~” Donnie could feel Raph’s hand trailing down his stomach as if he intended to do just that-_

Donatello grunted as he climaxed into his hand, his legs trembling and body arching with every spurt of cum. He’d given up telling himself how wrong it was to think of his brothers in such a way, he knew he was messed up, but as far as he was concerned, he’d deal with the repercussions _after_ his brothers finally found him.

Panting slightly, he sighed and cracked his eyes open, finding himself squished up against the wall, his forehead pressed against the cool concrete. 

His brothers would certainly find him now, what with Nine and all those mutants free- Nine would find his family, would lead them to his rescue, and he could finally go home. It was only a matter of time. They’d come for him for sure now, and nothing would stop them from leaving this time, nothing…

The sound of a door sliding open echoed around the room, alerting him to the presence of his captors. Quickly he wiped the sticky remnants of his fantasy away on some straw from his bedding, then tucked himself back in. The last thing he wanted was to give anyone an invitation to collect more _‘samples’_.

“Enjoying yourself?” Chuckled a man, “Taking a wee bit of a _‘break’_ on your wonderful vacation?”

R1-13 growled under his breath and rolled over in his nest, finding a scientist he didn’t recognize at the front of his cage. 

“Do not antagonize it.” Hissed another, and that voice Thirteen did recognize. “It is hahrd enough to extrract wid out you pisseen it off!”

The red headed bitch from hell came into view, four others behind her, all of them holding the long poled shock sticks in hand.

Thirteen hissed on reflex and slowly moved to his feet, his hands forming into claws.

“Oh come on.” The man laughed, “It’s just a turtle.”

“Fehmous last wohrds.” Whispered Ariel, and she gestured at the door. “Open da cage.”

If Thirteen had to guess, he would say it took them about twenty minutes to catch and restrain him this time. Twenty whole minutes of jaw punching, face clawing, neck breaking avoidance that ended up calling in two more men just hold him down. One human was definitely dead, the second down and wheezing. He’d be curious to see if that one ever walked again.

“Watch da legs!” Grunted Ariel, clutching to the pole around R1-13’s neck as he attempted to twist, “It gets just one loose and you will be lucky to see morneen!”

“But it’s, a, turtle!?” Panted the man who had mocked him earlier, “How the hell, is it, so strong!?”

“Because you pissed it off!” She spat at him over Thirteen’s roars.

The electricity snapped and stung through his body, twitching every muscle and nerve far worse than he remembered. Either they had upped the voltage, or he had grown soft during his recovery, so soft that he could barely keep his limbs under control.

“Let me go!” He snarled, bending and twisting as much as the poles would allow, “And I’ll make your deaths quick and painless!”

He bucked and squirmed despite the pain, the healing wound on his leg was reopened and dripping blood. The people holding him grunted and fought to keep him controlled, shifting through the doors and down the hall in a slow but progressive pace.

The final door opened, and the hall was flooded with light, effectively blinding him.

“Ah, there you are!” Called a cheery voice that felt out of place given the situation. “I was wondering when you’d bring him out to play. Honestly Miss. Nowak, I thought you were good at extractions.”

“Turrty-two, umph, minettes!” Snapped Ariel between struggles, “Dat is good time! Once took, a, whole twenty-fohr houhrs to re-contain it!”

Thirteen felt himself get hoisted up, his weight slamming him down across a metallic table. “I should’ve killed you that day, you insufferable bitch!” He hissed. 

His arms were forced against the table one by one, thick straps binding them tight against the metal as someone else grabbed at his head.

He snarled and snapped his teeth as yet another strap was applied, keeping his head still.

“Ah, but you didn’t. You chose to show mercy.” Said the cheery voice. Hands clapped, and the lights that had seemed aimed at his face retreated. 

A red headed man appeared above him, grinning wide. “Hello there, R1-13.” Said Dr. Grail, and the electricity stopped. His legs were strapped down tight, the clamps of the shock poles releasing him one by one, “I do hope you’ve enjoyed the little respite I’ve given you from our research.”

“I can’t wait to show my appreciation.” Panted Thirteen, every inch of him now tingling and limp, “How about an injection of hydrochloric acid through your ribcage straight into your lungs? That sounds like a perfect expression of my gratitude!”

Dr. Grail’s smile widened. “Gratitude.” He repeated with a sigh, “What a perfect word to use. You see, I was hoping to express just that today. We had a sighting of your snake friend, but it turns out he’s a crafty bastard. Killed four of my best men.”

Again Grail sighed, looking almost wistful as he pulled away. “And here I was, hoping to test out a serum we’ve been working on, one that would, hopefully, allow us to control the mutated genes inside your brain and force you to do as we command. I’d inject your snake friend, R1-09, order him to fight to the death, and then watch as he either ripped you to pieces, or as you, desperate to survive, were forced to murder your comrade. It would’ve been a wonderful example of my gratitude.”

Thirteen smirked, refusing to be baited by the Gladiatorial ‘pugnare ad mortem’ imagery. It sounded like a scheme thought up by the villains in one of Mikey’s cartoons. If this man thought he could shake his nerves, he was going to have to be more creative than that.

“Nine’s too smart to be caught again.” Thirteen said proudly, “He’ll keep them all safe, you’ll never catch any of them.”

“Maybe not.” Grail agreed, not at all put off by Thirteen’s bravado, and disappeared from view, “That is a fear that our sponsors were quick to voice, couple that with years of research obliterated in a single click of a button, and I have a huge risk of losing my backers.”

Thirteen’s smirk widened into a smile, “Good.” He said with a great deal of satisfaction, “What you’re doing is a disgrace to the name of science; creating weaponized children, torturing living breathing sapient beings, and for what? Money!?” He spat the last word, his lips pulling back into a snarl as the red headed man reappeared above him.

“Yup.” Said Grail with a smile of his own, “Millions. And when I’m done I’ll be famous, and you, turtle-turned-human, will be a _‘shell’_ of your former self.” He chuckled slightly and slapped the table in his amusement.

“Ah, literally. I’m going to see if I can remove it and put it on my wall, all the while keeping you alive and fully functional. I mean, can you imagine?” He asked almost energetically, “Your offspring, you know, like the ones you mass murdered, able to pull their shells off and use them as a shield? How fantastic would that be?”

Ok, that was definitely more creative.

Unsure if he wanted to puke or scream, Thirteen forced himself to hold the twisted man’s gaze. “You’re a disgusting monster, you know that?” He growled, “I can’t wait for my brothers to find me, and kill you.”

Grail chuckled again, and this time lifted up a small electric hand held saw just inches from Thirteen’s face. “I look forward to that day,” He said softly, “Three more test subjects, if, they ever do decide to look for you. Until then, allow me to express some of that _gratitude_ I was referring to earlier.”

Thirteen’s heart jumped in his throat as the saw whirred to life, its jagged ends now a spinning blur that brought with it terrifying memories. His eyes widened and he jumped in the straps, his body reacting on reflex to escape what he knew meant pain.

“And once I find the traitor who helped you and Williams.” Said Grail over the saws screech, “The one who shredded our hard files, reprogrammed the security cameras and deleted our backup files. I’ll make sure to gut them in front of you, and force you to watch as I slowly drain the life from their cold dying form. But until that lovely day comes, I’m going to enjoy hurting you, every, single, chance I get, until you break, and serve me.”

Thirteen was barely paying attention, his focus on the deadly weapon now bobbing above his head. “S-screw you.” He managed to force out, unsure of exactly what it was he was cursing the man for, “You, you, psychopathic freak!”

“Nah.” Whispered Grail, just loud enough to reach Thirteen over the hum of the blade, “You’re not my type. Though when you’re broken, I may just turn you into my personal pet. One that will bring me mutants whenever I desire, and, with that big brain of yours, help study said mutants. Assuming of course, you can survive my fun- I mean, _‘experiments’.”_

Heart pounding and unable to move, Thirteen jerked against the straps, his eyes wide as the man with the saw slowly lowered it to his plastron.

“Nowak,” Called Grail, “The oral spreader, if you please. We don’t need him breaking his teeth now do we?”

“Yes, sir.” Donatello thought he heard Ariel call, but his focus on anything other than the spinning metal in front of him was fading fast. Adrenaline had kicked in and panic had overpowered any sense of self-control he had left.

“No-no!” Donnie gasped as the saw came closer, his eyes wide and fixed on the whirling blade, “Stop, please, don’t-”

Something soft was jammed between his parted lips, forcing his mouth agape, just as the deadly tool descended and connected with his plastron.

An unearthly scream filled the lab, one that Donatello did not recognize as his. He bucked and squirmed against the binds as the sharp sting chewed through his plastron, digging through to his flesh just like the day they’d cracked apart his ribs and exposed his organs to the outside world.

_‘Sensei.’_ He thought, his mind barely grasping the ability to think, _‘Mikey, Leo, Raph…someone help. Make it stop!’_

As if in answer to his plea, the blade stopped spinning. 

Donnie lay against the metal, eyes wide and panting beneath his straps, a thin trickle of froth running down the side of his cheek from his open mouth. The burning wound on his chest was throbbing erratically with a pulse of its own, and while his vision was blurring in and out, he could still see the scientists in the mirror stationed above him, surrounding him, and worst of all, he could just make out what they were doing.

Dr. Grail had perfectly sliced a square out of one of his breastplates, outlining the scute with a red weeping mess. 

“Scalpel.” Said Grail, and all Donatello could do was watch as one of the men in white coats passed the sharp blade over him.

“Fun fact about turtles.” Murmured Grail, “Their scutes are actually made of a substance called Keratin, a, how shall I put this… Let’s call it a protective skin, for time’s sake, over the true bone of the turtle’s Plastron. This turtle, mutated with human DNA, has bone beneath his scutes, just not the same kind as a regular turtle. Rather than being fused together, this one has a layer of muscle between his keratin and a human like ribcage, allowing for flexibility.”

“You keep sayeen ‘he’, sir.” Donnie heard the red headed bitch from hell say, “It was not even human befohr it changed into dis dink.”

“No.” Grail agreed over Donatello’s panting gasps, “But I enjoy reminding them of what they used to be, and in R1-13’s case, he used to be free, was almost free again, and now is once more just a subject in a cage.”

All Donnie could do was watch, every inch of him trembling from a mixture of shock and fear as Grail lowered the scalpel towards his bleeding scute. 

“This should come off quite nicely.”

Donatello clenched up as he felt the first slice. 

“Kowalski, make sure the electrodes are charged.”

He tried to kick, his back arching against the straps as the knife cut again and again, his voice nothing more than an animalistic screech as the evil man lifted the scute over Donnie’s heart, inch by agonizing inch up and away from his body.

They were talking above him, their mouths open and moving, but he couldn’t make out a single word. He continued to scream even after Grail finished cutting and used a pair of hemostatic forceps to lift the scute that never should’ve left his body, up and away from his bleeding chest, stretching the thin tendrils of meat that connected it until they snapped like twine.

He twitched and cried, every inch of him shuddering in agony. Grail leaned over him, the man’s fiery hair burning through Donatello’s tears.

“Stay awake.” Whispered the man. “I wouldn’t want you to miss how your heart reacts when, I, do...” He lifted a strange pencil thin probe, and jabbed it straight down into the exposed flesh. “…This.”

Donatello’s throat constricted as stabbing jolts seared through him. His eyes widened more than he ever thought possible as his heart convulsed beneath his chest and the muscles trembled and spasmed from what he could only guess was an electric surge.  
“One jolt.” Donatello heard Grail’s cheery voice twist into a snarl, “For every, single, mutant you’ve lost me!”

Another jab and Donatello was seeing stars.

“Then, if you’re still conscious, I’ll take a few samples. Bone marrow to be exact, a bit from each and every exposed rib.” 

Donatello thought he could hear Grail laughing over the ringing in his ears, the other men around him talking in muffled voices that barely reached him. Someone grabbed his head, and a tube was jammed through his nose, another sliding in through his open mouth.

He tried to pull away, but the straps prevented him, his heart slamming into his ribs with every jab of the electric probes. The stars before Donnie’s vision began to swirl, his limbs growing cold.

“Stay awake~” Sang Grail, his voice echoing, “I want to play~ Come now, I thought you were stronger than this?”

Stronger? Yes, of course R1-13 was stronger. Shell as R1-13 he’d be able to stomach the torture and spit in Grail’s face once it was over! But…This wasn’t something he wanted to endure. Not as R1-13, and most definitely not as Donatello. It wasn’t worth it.

So he allowed the darkness to come and creep into his gaze, allowed the cold to sink into his tortured limbs and weigh them down, allowed the ringing in his ears to increase in volume, to drown out all other sounds, and lull him into restful oblivion.

Unconsciousness…Death… The cold chill that consumed him every time; it was like an old friend, one that he welcomed.

Who would’ve thought that a turtle like him would’ve become so comfortable in the arms of darkness…?


	26. Ch. 26

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Flash back warning

With Leonardo, all Donatello wanted was to curl into him at night and feel his warmth; a reminder that he was protected and safe. But with Michelangelo the roles were reversed:

Things weren’t easy for Mikey, especially when the sun went down, and all Donnie wanted to do was allow the tortured turtle to snuggle into his plastron and hold him tight so he could better chase Mikey’s nightmares away, nightmares that Donatello knew he was personally responsible for.

Ever since that morning when he went and found Mikey with his files and discovered just how scarred the youngest was by Donatello’s capture, he’d deeply regretted ever promising to tell Mikey whatever he wanted to know. The orange banded turtle’s thirst for knowledge was nearly unquenchable, and not in the way Donatello had always wished back when they were younger.

All the memories that he’d bottled up and tried to forget were now being scratched at, brought out in the open, raw and unguarded at the whim of his youngest brother… 

“This one?”

“…Bad reaction to some sort of injection. I don’t know what it was for…”

“And this one?”

Sighing from his corner of the couch he’d tucked himself into, he cast an exhausted look up at his baby brother, “Come on, Mikey…”

Michelangelo looked away at Ice-cream kitty, the little cat still purring away in her bowl on his lap. “…Please?” He murmured, glancing up with impossibly wide baby blue eyes, “Last one I-, I promise.”

Again Donnie sighed, looking away from those prying, resolve-melting orbs as he tugged his blanket in around himself tighter. “Fine…”

Taking a deep breath, Donatello shifted the blanket just enough to expose the top part of his plastron where a faint but ragged scar outlined one of his pectoral scutes. “Grail. He…he took it off.”

Mikey tilted his head. “Took it off?” He repeated, “Took what off?”

Hesitating, Donatello glanced uneasily down at his chest. How the shell was he supposed to explain this one without being too…. _Graphic?_

“Just…Just what I said, Mikey. He-” He trailed off as the smell of burning shell and blood suddenly crept into his nose-

_The saw was chewing away through his plastron, his whole body felt entirely too hot, the searing of his nerve endings spreading like wildfire through his system. The plastic tube in his throat feels too large somehow; it’s becoming more difficult to breathe. Black dots dance in and out of his vision, blurring the outline of a man hovering over him, “Stay awake~… “_

“Donnie?”

_Cold, it’s so cold now, he wonders if this is what going into shock feels like?_

_He barely registers a pressure being applied to one of his ribs before he winces at the sharp pain that follows._

_“…I want to play~”_

_Please make it stop, just make it-_

“Donnie?”

Donatello swallowed and clenched his eyes closed, vaguely aware that he was shaking.

“…D?”

Regaining hold of his senses, he mentally berated himself for his lapse in control- these _‘episodes’_ of his were only scaring Mikey more than he already was.

_‘Come on, pull yourself together! Just stick to the facts, keep it simple…’_

With a deep breath, Donatello tried again. “They took it off Mikey,” He whispered, “As in, they cut into my chest with a saw then sliced the connecting tissue to pry the scute off with a scalpel. They physically removed it from my body, then after a series of electric shocks, they performed a bone marrow biopsy- sorry, I mean they used a large syringe to extract the soft tissue from inside my ribs…”

He shivered, swiping his tongue around his mouth to rid it of the metallic taste of blood. His heart was pounding again, his breath threatening to quicken. Darwin’s beard, when did he become so pathetic?

Luckily, Mikey didn’t say a word, and even the sound of his breathing had diminished… Actually, his breathing wasn’t heard at all. Maybe he’d left? Finally giving in and walking away from the horrors Donatello had gone through. Or… Uh-oh. Mikey’s imagination was rather vivid at times…

Shell, what if he fainted!? 

Quickly he opened his eyes, searching for his little brother, but he didn’t need to look far.

Right in front of him knelt Mikey, his eyes watery and his usual light green complexion paled to a faint shade of mint. He seemed to be holding his breath, his lip quivering with a look of absolute horror on his face. “Dude.” He whispered, “W-why?”

Holding his brother’s gaze, a horrible twisting feeling tugged at his gut, Donatello wished beyond anything that he hadn’t made that stupid promise; if he was even half as clever as he claimed to be, he would have thought up a lie and spared his baby brother the gruesome truth.

Now he was stuck, because breaking a promise was the one thing Donatello had yet to ever do.

“Revenge.” He said softly, looking away, “Grail was…upset with me. Please Mikey, no more questions. I don’t want to talk about it anymore today.”

Mikey looked down at the bowl of purring ice cream, dejected, when his head snapped back up with a painfully forced smile. 

“Oh, I know!” He said, scampering to his feet with ice-cream kitty in tow, “You need cheering up! A fresh, homemade ‘Mikey-Pizza’ should do it!”

Donatello’s stomach twisted again for an entirely different reason. “N-no, that’s ok.” He said quickly, spinning in his seat to try and stop him, but the younger turtle was too quick. His fingers just barely grazed Mikey’s belt before Michelangelo took off towards the kitchen and disappeared to concoct shell only knew what kind of culinary atrocities.

All he could do at that point was cringe. With Mikey’s unstable emotional state, it would be unwise to deny any gift from him, despite how…disgusting it may be. There was no getting around it; Unless he wanted to spend the rest of the day looking at wide, tear filled blue eyes and listen to poorly muffled sobbing spasms, he’d have to take a bite out of a ‘Mikey-Pizza’.

With a sigh he thunked his head along the cushions and stared up at the ceiling. At least Raph and Leo were making amends; that was something. Every morning Raphael would come out of the lab and together with Leo, would make breakfast.

Sometimes they’d go to the dojo with Master Splinter where Mikey would later join them, no doubt to tell them everything that he’d learned from Donatello. Other times they’d sit with Jones and April during tea time and play ‘Mazes and Mutants’, while Mikey, and for some reason Karai, watched the news with Donnie. Then, like this morning, the pair would emerge from Leo’s bedroom, the scent of sex clinging to the air as they passed by.

It was a smell Donnie was beginning to grow familiar with, that and the scent of arousal. At first he confused it with aggression, for the musky scents that followed the three of them before and after intercourse were similar to the scents that lingered after a hard training session.

Like now for example.

The door to Leonardo’s room creaked open, a hushed whisper echoing from the direction of it as both Leo and Raph became visible. He could see them, standing just outside the door frame, their heads bent together, Leo’s hand resting along Raphael’s plastron just over his heart. 

The scent that would linger and drift faintly from them and their room would be…intense. Proof of their love…their Intimacy.

Intimacy. The very thought sent shivers of mixed feelings up his spine. He could imagine them, pressed up against one another, touching, caressing with whispered words meant only for the other’s ear. Sometimes he’d place himself in the middle of their coupling, imagining what they’d feel like, what they would smell like up close and in the heat of their passions and not just from a distance- Then reality would sneak into his dream and hit him…

How could he, a turtle who still flinched from his family’s touches, ever hope to feel his brothers in any way other than platonic? 

Though, the more he thought about it, the more he came to the conclusion that maybe it was for the best. Back in that place, all he did was use them in desperate fantasies to find escape, and despite what Leo had said, all he’d be doing now would be using them again.

Trying to turn those fantasies into reality might bring him some momentary comfort, but his intentions wouldn’t be sincere. After everything his brothers went through to find him, they deserved better than that.

Tucking his legs up against his plastron, Donatello curled into himself and tugged the blanket around him tighter as if it could somehow shield him from that sinfully tempting scent that was still wafting over from his eldest brothers.

Raph and Leo were still just outside Leonardo’s door frame, whispering about shell knew what; Most likely something not meant for his ears. He would just have to get used to this feeling of exclusion. Ninjas adapt, don’t they? He could do that. Even if he could never actually be with them, at least he’d still be able to enjoy their presence, maybe even steal a kiss now and again from Leo or Mikey. 

Not Raph though, as Donatello was pretty certain that his immediate older brother was still waiting for Donnie to slit their throats in their sleep.

Sensei probably thought the same, especially after what he did to April and Casey. Then there was Karai, always watching…

“Donnie?”

He stiffened at the sound of a female’s voice… _April’s_ voice; it was close, too close, and he growled despite the fear that surged through him. Out of instinct he pressed into the corner of the couch and spun towards the sound, reflexively ready to defend himself or run at a moment’s notice. 

Red hair, blue eyes, freckles, the spitting image of that dysprosodic witch that haunted his dreams is what he expected to see. What he found was… unexpected.

April was dangerously close just as he’d assumed, sitting just two cushions away from him on the couch, but she looked different; Her hair was up, the brilliant red hidden under a hat that was less than flattering, her freckles somehow erased, and her lithe, feminine figure was buried beneath an oversized dark green coat. The only parts of her that were still reminiscent of the girl that once captivated his daydreams were her eyes; they were still blue and shining, her smile as gentle and sweet like a fond memory that had almost faded away.

“Hey Donnie.”

Despite the tender way she called his name, as though to reassure him, Donatello couldn’t help but feel apprehensive. His logical side argued with his instinct; this was April, she wasn’t a threat, she wasn’t _her_ , and his fear tapered some, but it didn’t stop him from remaining suspicious. 

A quick glance around the hall told him everything he needed to know. Casey was sitting on the lab steps, a bat in hand with a bitter scowl on his face. Karai and Shinigami were pretending to have a conversation by the main entrance, and though he couldn’t see or sense Master Splinter, he knew his father had to be close by. 

Of _course_ they wouldn’t leave the poor girl with the unstable mutant unsupervised; he was much too dangerous for that. 

He glanced back at April and looked her up and down again. “Hey.” He murmured cautiously, “What, uh, what are you doing?” 

“Nothing.” Said April cheerily, “Just sitting here with a friend. Why?”

“Uh-huh…” He stole a glance at Casey again, the boy still glaring menacingly at him, his body language practically screaming that he was on edge, as if he were waiting for something to happen, and a terrifying thought crossed Donatello’s mind; 

With all the deaths caused by his friends still popping up on the news, they were finally going to lock him up. April was just a distraction, a way to keep him occupied while they readied to attack him and-

“No, no-no!” Said April quickly, raising her hands, “Easy Donnie, no one’s going to hurt you or, or lock you up, I promise.”

…Oh, right, _psychic._

“Then what do you want?!” He couldn’t help but snap, giving Casey yet another quick look. “You’re dressed up all weird, Casey looks like he wants to bash my head in, and Karai and Shinigami suck at pretending to play it cool!” Glancing back he narrowed his eyes and tucked into the couch tighter, wishing he could just burrow into it completely. “Why!?”

“Because I want my friend back.” April’s voice now held a hint of desperation. 

“Look, y-you’re not attacking me like before, or growling. You’re not afraid of me, just nervous…” She cast a nasty look at Casey and hissed under her breath, “Because _someone’s_ being a little too _obvious!”_

Casey must have overheard her last comment for he thunked the end of his bat along the steps and snapped, “Hey, it ain’t my fault he’s whacked in the head! If they’re not going to lock him up, then I’m taking precautions this time.”

The ferocity behind Casey’s words was anything but encouraging, and worst of all, unlike every other time Jones opened his mouth, Donnie couldn’t find a single reason to disagree with him, not after he’d tried to kill the girl he used to love…

Bowing his head in shame, Donatello looked anywhere but at them.

“Donnie…” He heard April murmur, “Hey, ignore him, it wasn’t your fault. He knows you weren’t yourself then. It’s ok.”

He sensed her approach before she could touch him and nearly leapt out of his shell. “N-no.” He stammered, recoiling into the couch. “Don’t, please.”

His brothers touching him was one thing, their hands were bigger, thicker, three fingered, while hers was way too familiar to a scientist’s touch for his comfort.

“Sorry, sorry.” She said quickly and pulled away, “Reflex. It was all just- but, h-hey, at least I figured out how to be close to you again. If I don’t remind you of her, then-”

His gaze snapped back up on April, “Leo _told_ you?” He asked, unable to hide the bitterness from his words. Of course his brother had told them, that was a stupid question.

To his surprise however, April shook her head. “Well, no.” She said a little hesitantly, “Actually I sorta, _saw_ the issue when you, you know, attacked me.” With a clearing of her throat she added quickly, “I swear I wasn’t trying to pry, Donnie. I used my powers to try and reach you that’s all, but you know I can’t always control it and…and I saw a couple glimpses of that place, and of her. The woman who hurt you…” 

Donatello snorted and begrudgingly nodded. Being mind-probed wasn’t something he was happy about, accidental or not. His mind was the one place he could still claim any modicum of privacy, the one part of his being that was still his alone, untouched by Grail or his underlings. Though, he was relieved to know that Leo and Mikey didn’t seem to be using him for gossip fodder around the lair.   
“Alright.” He sighed, “I’ll ask. So, the reason you're dressed like a homeless person is...?"

"Associationism." 

He cocked an eyeridge, recognizing the term but unable to understand what it had to do with his question. "...Beg your pardon?"

"It's a Psychology term I remember my Dad talking about;” Said April, looking far too perky, “Aristotle came up with these four laws dealing with memory and recall-"

"I _know_ what it means." He growled and the smile that had been on his human friend’s face faltered.

Realizing he’d sounded far more aggressive than the defensive tone he’d intended he closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "W-What I meant was, what does that have to do with, with whatever that is that you're wearing?"

Her smile returned, though he noticed it wasn’t as lively as it was before. "We look a lot alike, don't we?” She asked, so gentle, “That... that woman and I, I mean. When you saw me that night, it wasn't really ME that you were seeing, was it?"

Donatello’s heart twisted and he swallowed, but said nothing, his gaze drifting back to Casey, still tapping his bat against the lab steps like a countdown.

"Whenever you look at me, you see a woman with red hair and freckles. You don’t see me, you associate those features with HER, and that triggers your fight or flight reflex. That’s why you attacked me that day."

Unable to deny it, Donatello looked away again and focused on the floor. He’d always prided himself on being a turtle of logic and reason, but now he was embarrassed to say that despite his best efforts he’d succumbed to his fear and allowed it to control him.

"So…” Continued April, “I took the triggers away. I raided my dad's closet for one of his old coats and this thing." She nodded to the droopy hat concealing her bright red hair, "And I applied some heavy make-up. I can't really do anything about my eyes other than maybe sunglasses, but the lighting isn't the greatest down here and I didn't think I'd be able to accomplish anything if all I was doing was stumbling around in the dark."

"Accomplish?" Asked Donnie, his eyes narrowing suspiciously at the cement, “What’s that supposed to mean?”

She let out an exhausted sigh and he heard April shift on the couch, possibly drawing closer. "I want you to see ME, Donnie.” She said with a bit more urgency, “Not my hair or my freckles, not that woman who hurt you, just me. I'm your friend, and I would never, EVER do anything to hurt you. Just like I know you would never mean to hurt me..."

An uncomfortable silence trailed after her words as a memory he was anything but proud of flitted into his mind. He had her small form pinned to the hard concrete, his claws dug into her delicate throat so easily, and worst of all, she hadn’t even fought back. No wonder Casey thought he was a monster who needed to be locked away. 

"You're NOT a Monster, Donnie." 

Annoying fricking telepath… digging into his head without permission again. 

"You were drugged and scared, you thought I was her and you were just defending yourself. I know that's- that's why you killed those men on the roof, right? Because you were just afraid-"

Right then he could’ve lied, it would’ve been so easy to just accept her assumptions and play the role of the drug-induced victim; delirious with fear and too intoxicated to be wholly responsibly for his own actions; but he didn’t. Something in him hardened, and he turned his sights onto the human girl and growled. "No."

She looked taken aback. "Donnie?"

"No,” He repeated, “I wasn't afraid. And like I told my brothers, I DIDN'T kill those men, it was the others-"

Looking suddenly relieved at this, April perked up a little.

"I merely encouraged them. Though I did stab the one in the eye with the needle he used to drug me. Gave him a taste of his own medicine. Hurt him good, but I didn’t kill him."

Her face fell, and he was pretty certain she’d grown a bit paler too.

"The others would’ve killed those men regardless. I just made sure it was done more efficiently to meet our needs."

April was obviously uneasy now. This couldn’t have been the direction she’d planned on taking this friendly little ‘chat’ of theirs.

"Listen, Donnie-" She tried to say, forcing a weak smile, as though she was trying to empathize with him, as if _she_ could possibly understand.

"No, _you_ listen, April.” He snapped, “You need to hear this. I know what I am and what I've done. I've killed a lot of people, people I don't even know the names of, but it wasn't out of fear." 

He could sense them now, everyone in the lair, listening to what he was saying; even his father…and none of them, not a single one was going to like what he was about to say. 

"It was out of necessity."

April's eyes widened and she grew stiff. Her mouth opened, but he just kept talking.

"They were scum; Depraved and malicious beings with no moral fiber or any redeemable qualities. They got _exactly_ what they deserved and I can promise you that it was far kinder than anything that those scientists did to me, that they did to ALL of us, and what they were willing to do to my family. Those people were a cancerous tumor on the human species as a whole, one that would’ve kept on growing if I hadn’t removed them."

A visible shiver ran up April’s spine despite the lair not even being cold. "Donnie, that's not y-"

"You're naive;” He interrupted coldly, “You're still living in this childish delusion where you think everything is as simple as good vs. evil, where the righteous heroes always find a way to save the day while the wicked rot behind bars and justice prevails without anyone having to get their hands dirty."

"Donnie, we’re better than that.” She pleaded, “And so are you, we don’t have to-"

"Do you honestly believe that?!” He snapped incredulously, his protective blanket all but forgotten as he got to his feet. “Life's not that black and white, April!” He hissed, “Honor and good intentions won't get us anywhere, not when it's a matter of survival! You can preach all you want about taking the moral high ground and the sanctity of life, but the fact is that sometimes just a swift beat down and a trip to jail isn't enough. Beating the bad guys doesn't matter one iota if they keep getting back up again to hurt you or the people you care about, does it?!"

Out of the corner of his eye he saw Casey shift along the steps, like a coil ready to spring; but Donatello was past caring. Let the puck-head attack him, let him find out just how numb to pain he truly was.  
"You give an inch, they take a mile, you turn the other cheek and they go for your throat!” He snarled, “What I did was make certain those men will NEVER hurt anyone again."

He was painfully aware that all eyes were on him now, even Mikey’s, but if they planned to lock him up, now or some point later, they might as well hear him say it…

"Those two on the roof NEEDED to die, and the moment I find Grail, I’ll rid the city of him too. The world will be better off without them."

April was watching him carefully from the couch, but she didn’t look scared, in fact she didn’t even look worried anymore, just… sadly calm, almost pitying.

"...Is that how you justify it?" She asked after a moment.

Donnie blinked, taken aback by her question. That was not the reaction he was expecting. Yelling, crying, maybe even stunned into a terror induced silence yes, but this…

"W-what?" He stammered, “I don’t-“

But this time, it was her who interrupted. "I can feel it, Donnie. Your anger- it's pouring off of you in waves. You talk about killing as if this was some middle-school debate club and you were an advocate for the death penalty as a deterrent to crime... All that talk about facing the facts and black and white, you weren't thinking any of that when you killed those scientists."

The way she spoke, it was almost like she’d been there and was now simply recalling a memory. What resolve he had began to crumble allowing his nerves to creep back in and send him cowering back into the timid wreak he was before.

"Y-you- how could you even-?” He tried to say, but his lips refused to form words. “I didn’t say any-"

"When you were talking,” Said April softly, “I could sense your memories jumping to the front of your mind, and all the rage behind them. There... There was also a feeling of, satisfaction, and I'm not so sure it was from just 'doing what was necessary for the greater good.' It... it was almost like... payback."

She wasn’t loud or angry, and her expression remained commiserative...but her words sounded... disappointed, just like his father’s had the night he attacked her. With all eyes still boring into him, the room was beginning to feel quite small. Maybe he should’ve stayed with Nine and the others…

"Donnie, I don't think anything can ever be as simple as black or white.” Continued April, still soft, still gentle, still disheartened. “Maybe you're right, maybe just beating the bad guys and locking them up ISN'T enough for some of them. And honestly? I'd be lying if I said that I never thought the world would be better off if some people weren't in it..."

It took him a second to process what she’d just admitted, but even once he realized what she’d said he still couldn’t actually believe it.

"But I do know this;” April asserted, holding his gaze, “Killing out of anger, no matter what the reason, doesn't make it right. It's not justice if you're motivated by hate."

He opened his mouth to try and speak again. "I’m not- I mean, I just..." But the fire had died, and his words were still a humiliating mess. Giving up, he looked away and crossed his arms in tight against his naked plastron, deeply regretting letting go of his blanket- he felt far too exposed.

"I want to understand, Donnie.” He heard her say, followed by the sound of her coat rustling, and he sensed her draw near. “I want to help you, we ALL do.” She whispered, almost beseechingly, and for some reason Donnie let her get closer. "I don't think you really believe that killing is the answer, that's not who you are, Donnie."

_‘You mean that's not who I USED to be.’_ He silently corrected, his fingers brushing the scar where the numbers that had been burned into his skin could still be felt.

Grail was a monster, one who wasn’t going to stop until he and his family were on a steel table, or until someone _made_ him stop. That man’s death was the only way he and his brothers, heck, all the mutants in the world would ever be safe again.

How many times had he already killed?…To survive, and to spare those who were suffering… 

How could he ever make her understand?

Taking a deep breath, Donnie exhaled slowly, hoping to somehow expunge some of his current hostility. April had once claimed that she could see a person’s aura, and he obviously needed to clear his before he had any hope of explaining himself.

"I... wasn't always angry, not every time."

He felt her come just a little bit closer, and he let her.

"...Tell me." She said softly, “I’ll listen.”

"I…” He began, and the memories of fear and pain flitted through his mind, of the men with the taser sticks, coming for him to hold him down, to hurt him, to _violate_ him. Of course he was angry, who wouldn’t be?! But…

“No, no you're wrong,” He said firmly, physically shaking his head in attempt to banish the growing anger from his mind, “April. Sometimes it IS necessary, sometimes..." 

This time a different image swam to the front of his mind, one of glossy, anguished yellow eyes, a severed head, gasping on the table and begging to be put out of his misery.

He looked up at her, finding her only a foot or two away, and mahogany eyes locked with blue. "...Sometimes killing is the only thing you _can_ do."

Those blue eyes shot wide and rolled back as April gasped, a sharp sound that echoed far too loudly in such an occupied space as she jerked away, recoiling from him as though she’d been struck. 

It was so startling that Donnie instinctualy reached out to her as she clutched her head and cringed in obvious pain need of help, but as he did, her hat tumbled free and her hair glared at him like a bright red stop sign.

He jerked at the sight of it with a hiss and his temper flared. 

This was ridiculous! He _knew_ she was April, _knew_ she would never hurt him, yet all he saw was that stupid woman standing before him, mocking him, studying him as if he were some sort of animal!

Before he realized what he was doing his hands had formed into defensive claws and a muffled growl was in his throat. Thankfully he had enough wit about him not to give into his irrational fear and attack this time. 

Casey, on the other hand, never had much wit to begin with… 

“That’s _IT!_ ” Donnie heard the bellow and turned just in time to see the vigilante lunging at him with his bat ready to swing.

_‘Oh…’_ He managed to groan internally, knowing he only had time to brace for the impact, ‘This is going to hurt…”

Or, at least it would have, if out of nowhere a turtle shaped missile hadn’t slammed full force into the young man, driving him to the ground.

Raphael. 

“I don’t think so!” Snarled the red banded turtle, his arms and legs snapping around the human boy.

Still struggling, Jones waved his bat hopelessly and snapped, “Lemme’ go! He’s going psycho on us, just like last time!” 

“He never touched her, you idiot! Now chill out before I really hurt ‘ya!”

“ _April’s_ the one who’s hurt!” Casey spat, “She-Shit! Ow-ow- _ow!!_ FUCK!“

Having had just about enough, Raphael leaned back and managed to crook Casey’s arm back mid-sentence, forcing him to drop the bat and turning his best pal into a yelping mess. “Donnie didn’t do anything!” Raphael roared above his friend’s swearing, “Touch him and _I’ll_ mount your head on a spike!”

Donatello stood there stunned, his hands still brandished in defensive claws as the pair continued to struggle along the ground; Casey refusing to give up and Raphael growing dangerously close to breaking the human’s arm.

“Enough!” Snapped Karai, springing in the middle of the tussle. 

At some point he must have blinked because the next thing Donnie knew, the wooden bat was flying across the lair and Raph was cursing along with Casey as the skilled Kunnoichi found a pressure point and jabbed at it. “Raphael, just let go already and go stand by Cujo. I’ll handle Jones!”

As Karai did her best to coax Casey free of Raphael’s tight iron grip, Mikey scrambled past them to April, back on the couch, her whole body trembling. Shinigami was there by her side, delicately plucking the hat from the floor with a grimace as if it held some nasty contagion.

“You ok?” Asked Michelangelo, “What happened? You were fine and then totally wigged out!” But April just shook her head, allowing Shini to plop the hat back atop her head and gently tuck her bright red strands of hair back in its folds and out of sight.

“I’m fine.” Said April quietly, “Just…images, bad images.”

Master Splinter appeared from the shadows with a steaming cup in hand.

“Here.” He murmered once he’d reached April’s side, “Drink.”

“No, I’m fine, I-“.

“Drink” Sensei said more firmly and he pressed the cup into April’s hand. “It will help. Slow, steady sips.”

April groaned and rubbed at her head again but took the cup. “I’m ok, really. It was just, an emotional overload maybe?”

The old rat flattened his ears, his face falling. “Yes.” He whispered sadly, looking up, his eyes meeting Donatello’s, “There is much of that in the lair these days.”

Heart dropping into his stomach, Donnie looked away from the Ninja Master’s gaze and wrapped his arms up to his chest. He felt more vulnerable under his father’s stare than he ever had in that laboratory. Splinter didn’t need psychic abilities to see through the broken turtle, to see how much of a disappointment he’d become, how much he’d tainted his clan’s name….

Donatello had the overwhelming urge to flee, to run from the lair and find his friends, someone, _anyone_ who understood, somewhere he could be safe from this constant scrutiny, when a hand wrapped around his shoulder.

He jumped, caught off guard and wriggled free of the touch, only to spin and find himself inches from Leonardo. When had he gotten there?

Thankfully, his older brother didn’t look upset, only concerned. “Are you okay?”

Donnie hesitated for only a moment, looking the older turtle up and down, sure that Leo must’ve been disgusted after hearing his outburst; but there was nothing, just genuine, unbiased, worry for his wellbeing.

For the umpteenth time that night, the extensive vocabulary he was once so proud of failed him, and unable articulate anything useful, Donnie simply tightened his arms to his chest- a growing habit it seemed, and focused down on them, anywhere but on the eyes that still burned into him. 

“Hey, come on.” Whispered Leo, reaching out to gently guide Donatello towards the bedrooms, “Let’s go lie down for a little bit, ok?” 

An annoyingly familiar sense of shame seeped in as Donatello nodded, defeated, and allowed Leonardo to lead him away.

“Donnie, wait!”

April’s voice froze him before he could get very far, the very sound making him flinch; afraid to hear what she had to say.

"I..I still don't really understand." He heard her say, and he clenched his eyes closed, he knew she wouldn’t. 

"But I'm not going to stop trying.” He furrowed his eyeridges in confusion. Was she serious? After that tirade? 

“And Donnie?”

Cautiously, he turned just enough to see her, sitting on the couch surrounded by his family.

“Bradford...” She said just loud enough for him to hear, “You did the right thing."

Those five little words shot through him like a bullet, stunning him into a rigid trance that was only broken when Leonardo began to nudge him forward again.

It wasn’t that he ever doubted ending Razhar's suffering was the correct decision, but- for some reason, hearing someone else verify it out loud, - was almost comforting in a way.

A part of him wanted to say thank you, but looking back at April and seeing her weak but knowing smile, somehow he knows he doesn't need to.

As Donatello turned away and headed towards the sanctity of Leo's room, he allowed himself, for the first time in a long while, a small smile as the distant sounds of Michelangelo’s exuberant inquiries about April's "awesome hat" reached him. An attempt to lighten the mood no doubt.

The last thing he heard as Leo opened the door and followed him inside was a playful call of “Come on Raph, just try it on!” 

Followed by a snarl. "Don't even THINK about it!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woo! That took longer then expected!   
> For those of you who don't know, I had my daughter on march 25th :)   
> Consequently, typing one handed with a screaming infant is not easy >_>   
> BUT! I will continue ;) No mater what! Promise :D


	27. Ch. 27

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning-  
> Mental, physical, sexual abuse, and loads of fucked up shit.

Blood dripped from his chin and his nostrils, his breath coming in hard gasps as he clung to the bleach-white hallway wall for support. There was a man before him, sprawled dead along the ground, but he’d put up one hell of a fight.

He didn’t know what day it was, or for how long he’d been Grail’s play thing. All that he knew at that moment, was that he was out of his cage and he wasn’t going back in it. 

A high pitched screech sounded above and he nearly leapt out of his shell. Glancing up, he found the source, a small fist sized speaker built into the ceiling by the lights where an even smaller camera glinted down at him.

That hadn’t been there the last time he’d escaped…

“Crap.” He puffed, wiping some of the blood from his face. “Should’ve known there’d be upgrades.”

Hoping the cameras and alarms were the only new surprises, R1-13 straightened up and pushed away from the wall. His time would be limited now and he knew it, so as he passed the limp body he quickly frisked its pockets, but found nothing more than a pen.

“Better than nothing.” He whispered, gripping it tight, and then shot down the hall.

There had to be an exit, a window, cafeteria, something other than the torture chambers that lay behind the doors that lined the walls around him. 

_‘Come on, come on!’_ He thought, frantically searching for anything that looked like a way out, shell he’d take an air vent, anything at this point!

The hallway bent both left and right up ahead, the siren blaring away. Which way, which…

High on adrenaline, his senses detected the presence of a human before he even registered that one was there. Having learned to depend on his instincts, he allowed them to take control, and pivoted left without thinking.

The air exploded with a resounding bang as he smacked into the wall. Whatever had been fired at him missed, but the second shot did not.

He gritted his teeth, stifling a scream as the unmistakable sting of hot metal seared across his thigh. Blood oozed down his leg, but he refused to look as he spun on the spot and kicked off the wall. He managed to dive around the corner just in time as yet another shot rang out.

_‘Bullets.’ _He thought, fighting to control his breathing, _‘Shit, they’re using actual bullets this time.’___

__He twirled the pen in his hand, estimating the speed, angle and trajectory of the shots that had been fired. Three seconds…two, one…_ _

__Hoping he had calculated correctly, he bared his teeth and snarled, throwing himself back around the corner with his pen and claws brandished._ _

__It all happened so quick._ _

__He grabbed the long barrel of a gun, twisting it away from his face right as it went off. Bits of wall shattered down around him and a man dressed in gray camo as they struggled, slamming one another into the hallway wall in their attempt to gain control of the other._ _

__The human grunted, his hand flying to a gun holster on his belt, but as he let go, it weakened his grip on the rifle._ _

__As hard as he could he slammed the butt end of the weapon right into the human’s face with a crack. A hand gun loosely rose from the human’s holster as the guard stumbled back, right as something moved at the end of the hall._ _

__Without thinking, Thirteen ripped the human’s arm up and twisted it, ripping the rifle free as he forced the guard to bend, and grabbed the hand gun, hand and all. Quick as a flash he aimed high and shot once, then twice._ _

__Two more men thudded to the ground as the bullets hit their mark, both of them in the same gray camouflage fatigues as the one still struggling in Thirteen’s grasp._ _

__Realizing his men were down, the guard tightened his grip and fought to regain control of his weapon, twisting and squirming, all the while groping with his free hand to get a good grip on any part of the turtle he could reach._ _

__R-13’s heart jumped as he felt his control slipping, the gun slowly shifting sideways in his straining grip as the human forced it towards his face. An idea popped into his head just then, a crazy and quite possibly suicidal one…_ _

__For every action there is an equal and opposite reaction. If two forces were pushing against one another and one was to suddenly let go, the lack of resistance should result in the opposing force’s momentum being too great, and in this case, throw off their aim… He hoped, anyway._ _

__Grunting, he pushed back even more, ‘ _Newton, don’t fail me now.’_ , before he released his grip and ducked._ _

__The gunshot slammed into his eardrums with a deafening blast that faded into an echoing ringing that drowned out all other sounds. There was a searing sensation scoring across his cheek as he dove at the man, his pen drawn, and stabbed it clean through the guard’s glasses and straight into his eye._ _

__The man opened his mouth and screeched, or at least Thirteen assumed he did, as the ringing in his eardrums had yet to subside. Human and Mutant struggled for a moment more, but with his gained leverage, Thirteen was able to jab the pen further into the orbit until he felt the crack of the Sphenoid bone, and the human went limp beneath him._ _

__They collapsed in a heap on the ground, R-13 panting hard, and quickly shoved the twitching body away from him, a single thought in mind; why weren’t the fools wearing Kevlar? And why the shell were there only three of them? Were they stupid? If this was their new defense, then he was free for sure!_ _

__Snatching the pistol from the guard’s lifeless hand, Thirteen dragged himself back to his feet. He let out a hiss as he touched his cheek where the bullet had grazed him and examined the blood that stained his fingertips._ _

__“Shell…” He murmured under his breath as it trickled down his neck, “Real ammo is new to.”_ _

__Checking the gun, he found four bullets left of a seven-round mag. It was much better than the pen. He put it back together and quickly glanced around, making sure the coast was still clear before racing down the hall once more._ _

__He skidded across the tile as he rounded the bend, knowing he didn’t have much time until more arrived. The whole situation was a fluke to begin with, what with his cage door malfunctioning and all; the look on the faces of the two young scientists that had been in there at the time had been priceless. He had no clue why or how, but luck had been on his side then, and he sure as shell hoped it would be on his side now._ _

__Finally, he spotted something promising, an air vent in the middle of the seemingly endless hall. It was blowing cold air; a potential indicator that it was hot outside, more importantly it was a possible way out. He just had to be cautious, take his time and…_ _

__“Over here, it went this way!”_ _

__He jerked at the sound of voices, his need for caution replaced by the overwhelming urge to flee and grabbed at the cold air grate. No matter where it led him, anywhere was better than going back to Grail._ _

__With the added boost of adrenaline, he ripped the metal from the wall with his free hand and launched inside the frigid vent._ _

__He could hear them shouting as he scurried into the dark, his heart pounding a mile a minute but didn’t dare look back. He’d only gone in a few feet when he began to regret that decision._ _

__The metal around him began to hum and he froze mid crawl. It crackled like electricity, and a heavy sense of dread settled in the pit of his stomach._ _

__“Oh no.” He whispered, eyes wide as he scrambled to move on the icy metal, when something sharp stabbed into his thigh. Whatever it was it packed a punch, one so hard that he felt absolutely nothing as it knocked him straight into darkness. .._ _

__It only felt like a few seconds had passed when he began to grow aware of his surroundings again, but a part of him was well aware that he’d been unconscious for quite some time._ _

__Everything was hazy, though he could feel that he was laying on something hard and that his head was throbbing. His mouth felt like cotton, his tongue so dry it was like sandpaper hanging heavy in his mouth. Dehydration, he’d been unconscious for sure, and it had been for a while just as he first thought._ _

__He was too weak to move, every bit of him heavy like lead against whatever it was he was lying on. But as weak and sore as he felt, something just…wasn’t quite right. He didn’t really feel anything _horrible_ , and that didn’t make any sense._ _

__Usually after his escape attempts Grail was anything but kind. He’d torture and abuse R-13 at length regardless if he was awake or not, but right now he felt anything but like a turtle that had escaped. He felt…oddly tingly._ _

__He licked his lips in an attempt to moisten them, only to stop as a light pinching sensation prickled at his cheeks. His eyeridges furrowed in confusion, and the prickling appeared again, this time along his forehead._ _

___‘What the?’_ He thought, slowly becoming aware of a slight prickling along his legs and arms. It wasn’t painful, if anything it was a bit like the pins and needles sensation he got if he sat on his tail for too long while meditating, but shell was it curious._ _

__It took him a moment to muster up the strength, but eventually he cracked his tired eyes, his heavy lids crusted over from a very long sleep. The air stung as he opened them, the whole world nothing but fuzz, when he spotted a familiar figure looming over him- a figure with tall, notched ears._ _

__His eyes widened, the relieving moisture of tears forming in the corners._ _

__Master Splinter…_ _

__His breath caught in his throat as he scanned the features of the aged rat peering down at him; dark circles of black and brown fur beneath those wise, knowing amber eyes, crowned with bushy white eyebrows that bridged at the center and met with a stripe of white that trailed down his snout to a pink, nose, long whiskers that at one time had been the victims of constant abuse from curious tugging three-fingered hands, sprouted from the flews. A white Fu Manchu hung from the slanted chin, the tendril like beard a growing reminder of his Sensei's advanced years, was a stark contrast to the deep maroon of the well-worn kimono that covered the barrel chest beneath it._ _

__His face, his FATHER’S face was there, right above him; how long had it been since he last saw his Sensei? Was this a dream maybe? Or had they finally, _finally_ , found him and pulled him from that wretched place…and what the shell was that constant prickling?_ _

__Master Splinter murmured something, glancing up at someone just beyond Donnie’s vision. Donatello couldn’t help but be curious, and reluctantly tore his eyes away from the comforting visage of his father to look around, and what he saw made his heart quicken; Leonardo, Raphael, Michelangelo… They were there with him, even April. It had to be a dream, a wonderfully cruel dream…_ _

__Another prick tingled along his arm, drawing his attention over to whatever was causing it. He could see his father bending down, his thin pink fingers delicately guiding a hair-thin needle beneath his scales._ _

___‘Hari-Chi?... But that would mean…was this, could this be…real?!’_ _ _

__He took a breath, attempting to focus his still fuzzy senses, and slowly became aware of dozens of thin needles all over his exposed limbs. It was strange, but not unpleasant, far too tangible to be a dream._ _

__Weakly turning his head, he scanned the room, recognizing the water-stained poster laden concrete walls of the makeshift infirmary he’d set up in his lab._ _

___‘My brothers…They did it.’_ He thought, grateful tears of joy beginning to leak down his cheeks. _‘They finally found me just like I knew they would! I’m home, I’M HOME! I must be badly wounded, that’s why I can’t move, that’s why they’re using acupuncture; to try and heal me!’__ _

__Donatello sobbed out in pure joy, but all that escaped was a wheezing huff that scratched at his still too dry throat. _‘I’m free! I’m really free!’__ _

__As he allowed his body to completely relax in order to better allow his father to work his ancient Japanese medicinal art, movement caught in his peripheral vision; Leonardo walked away, moving past the table Donnie was lying on and headed towards a counter on the far wall._ _

__Hopefully Leo was going to fetch him some water. Though…Donnie couldn’t quite remember there being a counter over there before. How odd…_ _

__The thought was dismissed however when his brother in blue returned and Donnie greeted him with a weak smile. That smile faded into confusion though when instead of coming to Donatello’s side to present him with something to drink, Leonardo came to a halt at the end of the scavenged med table where Donnie’s legs had been splayed, reached over, and rubbed at the slit at the juncture between Donatello’s legs._ _

__Donnie nearly choked when he realized what his brother was doing, the sensual massage around the bulging cartilage quickly coaxing him to drop right out into his eldest brother’s hand where it was pumped into a full and raging erection. Right. In front. Of. Their. _FATHER!_ _ _

__Absolutely mortified, Donatello tried to call out to his brother who’d obviously lost his mind, but his throat was still too dry and refused to work, turning his words into a painful, hacking cough. Desperately he tried to snap his legs closed to hide his shame, but they refused to move, almost as if they were strapped down._ _

__He looked to his other brothers for help, hoping that someone would realize what was happening and put a stop to it. Mikey, Mikey was…Was he _doodling_ in a comic book?! Their oldest brother was molesting him in front of Sensei and he couldn’t be bothered to stop drawing mustaches and googly eyes on the villains for five seconds?? What the shell was wrong with him?!_ _

__He looked to Raph, desperate for help, only to see the hothead stomping his way over to Leo. _‘Oh thank shell!’_ Donnie thought with relief; Raph would knock some sense back into their leader, _literally.__ _

___‘…Wait, what’s he holding?’__ _

__His eyes widened in horror as Leonardo held his erection still, while Raphael guided a long, thin piece of lubricated metal to the tip of his penis and slowly began to insert it._ _

___‘No-no-no!!!’_ Donnie screamed internally, his teeth clenching and eyes snapping shut as a stinging pain slowly speared down his urethra until the metal rod prodded awkwardly at his bladder. It was cold, foreign, and filling him with an unpleasant fullness that had his whole body jerking in place._ _

__What in the name of Darwin’s beard was happening?! Why were his brothers doing this? And in front of their Sensei and, and…April. Oh shell, _April!__ _

__In a panic, he jerked his head in the direction of the red-headed girl, his neck giving a painful crack as he searched for his long time crush, his last hope for salvation! And there she was, standing a few feet behind Raph…playing on her T-phone..._ _

___‘Are you kidding me?!’_ _ _

__Michelangelo being distracted was one thing, but April? What the shell was so damn important that she couldn’t look up for five seconds to- to…_ _

__He tilted his head as much as the table would allow as he realized that long thin wires were connected to the phone. Donnie squinted at it, making out several wires coming out of the shell-shaped device, but that was impossible; after he and Mikey had been captured by Dogpound and Stinkman he’d purposefully rebuilt the T-phones without USB ports to prevent anyone from downloading data from them should they be unable to activate the self-destruct sequence. So what on earth were those wires connected to?_ _

__Curiosity outweighed the pain in his dick as he followed the wires with his eyes up to an empty IV hanger, then down to his body where each individual wire had been connected to an acupuncture needle protruding from his body and face. How had he missed that? What the shell was going on?!_ _

__The room was slowly growing brighter by the second, far brighter than the age-yellowed flickering florescent bulbs should allow, and small bits of unfamiliar equipment were coming into view. Like a large flat screen computer monitor in pristine condition. No one throws away a perfectly good flat screen! Where the heck did they get that? For that matter, how the shell did his brothers even install it? They couldn’t even set the clock on the VCR for shell’s sake!_ _

__Something, or someone, on the screen moved. He couldn’t make it out, but it looked almost like people…Like…Casey, Karai, and…the Shredder!?_ _

__“Now,” He heard his father say, and he looked up, locking his eyes with his Sensei’s, silently pleading for an explanation, “Let’s begin.”_ _

__“Wha-“ Donnie barely managed to utter a syllable before his voice turned into a gasp of pain as the multiple pin pricks littering his face and body were replaced with a searing heat reminiscent of the first time he burned his finger with a soldering iron._ _

__His twitched and jerked, what little he could, wanting nothing more than to thrash his body around and rip and tear each needle from his skin, but his torso wouldn’t move, and his arms, just like his legs were immobile._ _

__He could feel a pulse point throbbing around every burning needle in his flesh as the temperature continued to rise. There was a rushing sound in his ears and it was becoming difficult to breathe._ _

__His mouth opened to scream, but all that escaped was a strangled raspy croak that he didn’t recognize as his. All he could feel was pain radiating up him like a flame licking its way out of a burning building, and that was _exactly_ what it did- _ _

__Donatello jerked, his eyes wide and blurred with tears as he found himself choking on air as he felt the scorching heat bubble up under his skin until it burst its way through in the form of blisters that popped and fizzed loud enough to hear…_ _

__“Now, if you please…”_ _

__There was a stuttering high pitched whine that echoed in around him, a strange sound that filled the room, but Donnie didn’t question where it was coming from, didn’t even consider the fact that his throat felt like it was being ripped apart, never even entertained the idea that the noise might be coming from him._ _

__All he could think about was his penis, and how the cold metal rod inside it was rapidly warming to a red hot branding iron, cooking the phallic flesh of his member from the inside out and bringing the contents of his bladder to a slow simmer._ _

__The blurry image of his father leaned over him. “Do you smell that?” He heard him hum, “I have heard broiled turtle is quite the delicacy…”_ _

__If anyone had anything to say to that remark, Donatello never heard them._ _

__\------------------------------------_ _

__Dr. Grail smiled down at the reddish-brown and still sizzling flesh that once had been the turtle’s face, wondering just what or who R1-13 had seen standing over him this time to keep him so complacent._ _

__The Hallucinogenic effects of HI-02UG were funny that way; the drug easily took control of the fusiform gyrus and parahippocampal gyrus of the temporal lobe, thoroughly confused the hippocampus, while briefly stimulating the nucleus accumbens; a delicate yet tantalizing combination that misdirected memory recognition while activating the release of dopamine, tricking the brain into seeing images of loved ones and sometimes even familiar places. Who would've guessed a stupid peg legged bird mutant could produce such a useful secretion from its spinal fluid._ _

__It had been an amusing sight; seeing the mutant shift from calm and serene to a look of utter betrayal and frenzied panic as it writhed in its restraints in agony before finally succumbing to unconsciousness, and all in a matter of minutes._ _

__Perhaps it had imagined the other creatures of its brood? There was no way of telling for certain, but it had been entertaining all the same. Such a satisfying end for an otherwise taxing day._ _

__“As you can see.” Said Grail without turning, “The subject has suffered extensive thermal damage, extending down through the entire dermis to the subcutaneous tissue. Any creature, mutant or otherwise, would be unable to recover without remaining severely scarred.” He allowed the corner of his mouth to quirk up into a smile. “That is to say, if they didn’t expire from shock or infection first.”_ _

__He straightened, gesturing to the shriveled brown leather of R-13’s completely cooked through penis. “Toes, fingers, and sexual organs would need to be amputated. However…”_ _

__Turning to the screen where his financial backers had been watching via a live video feed, Dr. Grail waved for his team to continue. “The eggs from the alien worm we’ve been extracting have surpassed our expectations, and the healing qualities in the secretions have been isolated and successfully enhanced.” He raised an arm and gestured to the turtle, “Inject him, now please.”_ _

__“Injehcteen Subjehct R1-13 wid sehrum Hv-34Q.” He heard Nowak say, and the men on the screen leaned forward in their seats._ _

__“You’ll begin to notice changes in the less severe areas.” Said Grail, proudly smiling as the men let out little gasps as the turtle’s flesh visually began to heal at an astounding rate. Seeing truly was believing._ _

__“It works by reconstructing and then duplicating the healthy cells and tissue around the affected area, slowly eating away at the decay, or in this case, burnt tissue and replacing it with healthy brand new cells. What would’ve required amputation, and then taken years to completely heal, if the subject survived of course, will take mere hours. It’s not so great when it comes to regenerating bone, we’re working on that, but I can guarantee that if you continue to support us, at this rate, we’ll have a way to regenerate entire limbs.”_ _

__He practically beamed at the men on the screen who were now excitedly murmuring to their translators, undoubtedly excited at limitless potential of his latest masterpiece. He was quite the salesman if he dared say so himself._ _

__“I know that our last conversation together had you concerned about the safety of your investments, what with the mass escape and devastating loss of years’ worth of work…” He cleared his throat, but kept his smile, “But as you can see, my staff is far more capable of handling these creatures than yours. Seeing as how one of your so-called mercenaries was killed with a scalpel so-“_ _

__“Pen.” He heard one of his assistants correct, “Dr. Grail, it was Jackson’s _pen._ ”_ _

__Unable to help it, Grail’s smile widened. Even better._ _

__“My apologies. He was killed with a _pen_. My men however, are far better trained for scenarios like this. All I need.” He said in a honeyed tone, “Is for you to trust me, pull your security, and consider the financial increases I’ve suggested, and allow me to run the facility with the staff and technology of _my_ choosing. I’ve already given you a way to make your prisoners docile and more cooperative, thanks to the drug, HI-02UG. We’re working on a way to control the brain as a whole, but that will take time. Time, that we are more than happy to give you if you allow it.”_ _

__His smile curved into a wicked grin as his mind ran wild with plans for the turtle that had almost cost him everything. “Just imagine what I could do, unrestricted…”_ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you made it to the end, you seriously need to comment. You deserve the recognition.


	28. Ch. 28

Michelangelo hummed cheerfully as he watched the oven, counting down the minutes until he’d be allowed to open it up and retrieve the _best_ home cooked meal that _anyone_ could ask for! Pizza!! Anchovy, spinach, pepperoni with jalapeño and chocolate covered jellybeans to be exact, being baked to perfection on a large stone plate he had gotten last Christmas! He would’ve added more stuff but April and Shinigami had cleaned out the fridge…

He sat back in his chair, his grin faltering just a little at the memory of all that perfectly good food they had tossed in the garbage. So what if there was fuzz on some of it? That was what made cheese taste good, right? People sell it in stores all the time, so what was the big deal? Donnie even told him once that the older a cheese was, the more money humans paid for it! Or, something like that anyway…

His frown turned into a pout. All that wasted delicious food. Gone, poof, no more, thrown away in the bottom of the trashcan! 

…Would anyone notice if he pulled it out and ate it?

“Michelangelo? Why such a long face?”

He spun around at the call of his father, finding him quietly pouring himself a cup of tea. How long had he been there?

“Is everything alright?”

Probably a long time…

“April and Shinigami threw out all the food again.” Sighed Mikey, “Even the stuff that was still good!”

The old rat smiled and shook his head with the faintest chuckle. “Ah, my son.” He murmured, “There are many things in life that I have questions to, but no answers. Your appetite is one of them.”

Mikey turned in his chair and straddled the back of it, tilting his head in confusion. “I’m making pizza, not appetizers.”

Unsure why his father would even suggest that his pizza was a starter food, he tilted his head the other way then checked behind him to make sure his pizza was as large as he had first thought- then again, with so few toppings, it would make sense for his father to think he was just trying to save room for something even more amazing; if that were even possible.

“I made it pretty big this time too. I hope Donnie likes it as much as the last one. One second the pizza was there and then, poof!” He gestured with his hands a small explosion, “Gone. He ate the whole thing! I offered to make him another one but he was too full.” 

Michelangelo smiled and added happily, “This one doesn’t have as much of the good stuff on it, but I really hope he likes it anyway.”

This time it was his father’s smile that quivered, then slowly melted into a frown. “How is your brother?” He asked quietly. “He has been remaining in your room of late.”

It was true. Donnie had been spending more time in Mikey’s bedroom watching the news on the little TV he had in there ever since April had tried to talk to him and Casey had tried to clobber him. Donatello was worried about something, that much Mikey could tell, but whatever it was Donnie wasn’t sharing… Even though he promised he was going to be more share-itable- _'wait, that was the right word, right?_ \- with stuff.

“He’s ok.” Mikey answered honestly, “Well, like, sort of ok. It feels like he’s afraid of something but it’s hard to tell what that something is. Maybe he’s just still upset about April? He can’t stand how he hurt her that one time, and then how he almost hurt her again that other time…” He winced. “Wow, that kinda sounds even worse when you count it out loud, huh?”

Master Splinter hummed thoughtfully and sat down in the chair across the table. “From what I have heard, Donatello has endured a great deal of pain at the hands of a woman who bears a disturbing resemblance to our April. Every day he would need to fight for his life, the sight of that woman always foretelling what pain and suffering was to come. Learned behaviors are often difficult to break, especially when they are engrained in muscle memory as well as the mind. It must be quite the challenge to see April and try to resist the very instincts that kept him alive for so long.”

His father looked down at his tea, suddenly looking tired and strained, and far older than he had ever seemed. 

Sensei was taking this hard, far harder than Mikey had first assumed. A twinge of guilt curled in the pit of Michelangelo’s stomach as he watched his father, but he knew for Donnie’s sake, he had to ask one more thing of him; Splinter was the wisest person he knew, maybe even the wisest person on the whole planet, and that was definitely what Donnie needed right now.

“You should talk to him.” Said Mikey, crossing his arms across the top of his chair, “Talking to you while he was gone always made me feel better. Maybe it’ll do the same for him?” 

As he spoke, his father shook his head. “There is a time and place for words, my son, and mine are not yet needed. What your brother needs right now is the three of you in order to heal, and though it has been slow, I can sense he has made much progress.”

“You mean like kissing Leo?” 

Master Splinter let out a chuckle and took a sip of his tea. “I was more referring to Donatello freely entering and leaving your rooms, when originally the thought of spending more than a few seconds in a space so confining would leave him terrified. Now he is taking the time to speak about what he had to endure in that terrible place.” After a moment he glanced up at Michelangelo with a mischievous smile. “And yes, from the sounds of things he is also opening himself up to new experiences, such as the bond between you and your brothers that I had not expected him to explore. Like kissing.”

Mikey looked away, his smile twitching and threatening to fall into a frown. “He’s only kissed Leo that way. He did kiss me once, but I think it was just to make me feel better.”

“Oh?” He heard Splinter ask, “Did Donatello say that was his only reason?”

“Well, no, of course not.” Murmured Mikey, meeting his father’s gaze again, “But I _know_ Leo made him do it. It’s the only reason why he left Leo’s room and is staying in mine now.”

“Is that what you were told?”

Again Mikey shook his head. “No.” 

“I see. Have you asked Leonardo or Donatello about this?”

Of course he hadn’t, you don’t just ask that kinda stuff; who does that?

Twiddling his thumbs along the back of the chair he shook his head and murmured. “No. I just know.”

Splinter closed his eyes and raised a frail hand to stroke his beard. “Hmm…”

Uh-oh. Michelangelo knew that sound, that thoughtful hum his father made when he was about to say something designed to make him or his brothers think; but what was he trying to get him to think about this time? The pizza? Was it burning? Nope. Then maybe it was cleaning the fridge more often? ...No, it couldn’t be that, they already had that talk recently. 

“I find it curious, Michelangelo, how it is that you can simply know what has not been said without even asking those who have not said it?”

Ok, that was just all kinds of confusing. 

Thankfully Master Splinter seemed to sense his confusion, and asked;

“What do you mean when you say you know Leonardo is making Donatello spend time with you?”

Phew! Ok, that made _way_ more sense! Though, it wasn’t much easier to answer. When it came to feelings and those sorta things, Mikey just had a sixth sense about it, at least when it came to his brothers. Not like an April kind of sense, though. It wasn’t like he heard their thoughts in his head; it was more like, a tingling feeling in his gut? 

He wasn’t sure how to explain it really, but he had a hunch that Sensei wouldn’t take him seriously if he told him all he had to go on was a tingle.

Brushing the question off with a shake of his head, Mikey tried to bury his face in his arms. “It’s not like it matters. Donnie can’t stand to be touched.” 

Honestly, what did it matter why Donnie kissed him if his brainy brother hated being close and touching them in the first place? Times like this were when the youngest turtle wished he knew as many big words as his older brother, maybe then he’d be able to make Splinter understand what the real problem was-

“Michelangelo, would you like to hear a story?”

…Wait, what now?

Mikey lifted his face up from where it had burrowed in the pit of his inner elbow- he thought he remembered hearing Donnie call it a cube fossil once but he wasn’t really listening and elbow-pit made more sense to him anyways- to look up at his father curiously.

“Um, that depends…” He bit his lower lip in thought, “Are we talking about like, an awesomely action packed fun kinda story…Or life lesson-y kinda story?”

“The second one.”

Michelangelo groaned and buried his head back into his arms. Life lessons were cool and all, but they tended to be really confusing and super boring, and sometimes a little depressing…

But when Master Splinter got into story mode, that was it, you were stuck.

“There once was a young warrior, traveling through the wilderness when he came across a large, unbridled stallion…”

Mikey’s head popped back up at that. He was pretty sure he knew what a stallion was; it meant horse, right? He liked horses, he even rode one once! 

“Out in the wild? Dude, that’s pretty cool.”

Sensei flattened his ears and let out a brief sigh. “Yes, now pay attention.”

“Right, sorry!”

“…The horse had stumbled into a ravine and looked as if it had been recently injured. The warrior saw the limp in the stallion’s gait and it was clear to him that the animal would not be able to make his way back up the steep incline without aid.  
Being kind of heart, the young warrior carefully made his way down the narrow gorge and approached the animal slowly, stopping when the horse let out an angry cry, raised up on its hind legs and thrashed its front hoofs violently before the pain became too much to bear.

The wound the beast suffered had been at the hands of men, and as such, it was untrusting of the warrior’s intentions.

Not one to be dissuaded easily, the warrior discarded his blade in hopes that he could prove to the stallion that he was no threat, and slowly he approached again.

Unsatisfied, the horse let out a loud snort and stomped its front hoof to show its discontent.

Still confident that he could sway the creature, the warrior searched his satchel for the freshly washed daikon- the radish that he had intended for his own meal, and presented it to the beast before him as a gesture of good will.

The ravine floor was sand and stone without grass, and so, while still wary, the stallion hungrily accepted the offered radish. 

Smiling at his good fortune, the warrior made to touch the horse’s brow to sooth it further, only to pull his hand back quickly before the stallion could champ its strong teeth on his arm in warning before trotting off to the other side of the ravine in anger.  
After following the horse to the other side of the ravine and back again, the warrior was at a loss. Several times he approached the stallion, and several times he was met with failure. If he simply left the animal there then it would surely starve, but he was unsure as to how he could help a creature that flinched away from his very touch…”

Boy, Mikey could relate to that.

“…Weary from his attempts, the young warrior sat himself down to meditate on what could be done…”

Oh no, Sensei wasn’t going to make him meditate, was he?!

“…As he rested, he noticed that the stallion too had ceased its own restlessness, though it still kept at a safe distance. 

After some time had passed, not being one for long meditation…” 

Master Splinter paused to raise a furry eyebrow in Mikey’s direction that he was pretty sure meant he was hinting at something. 

“… The young warrior picked up a small twig and began idly tracing symbols into the sand, when he heard the sound of hoof beats approaching from behind him.

Not wanting to startle the horse, the warrior acted as if he was unaware of the beast’s slow approach, wondering if it had finally decided to run him off, or if it was merely curiosity that drew the stallion near.

A new thought occurred to him, and slowly he rose to stand once more, but instead of trying to approach the horse yet again, he turned and walked away.

The young warrior walked over to the other side of the ravine and back again, only this time it was the horse who followed after him.

Filled with new confidence, the warrior turned to face the stallion once more, his hand extended out as if to pet the creature’s brow, yet he did not move.

Man and beast eyed one another for several moments, until it was the stallion who stepped forward, bowing his head into the warrior’s gentle touch.

The two made their way out of the ravine, not because the warrior had come to the horse, but because he had allowed the horse to come to him.” 

Splinter was silent for a few minutes, probably to allow time for the lesson to sink in, or maybe it was to let Mikey enjoy the image in his head of Michelangelo the elfin warrior and his newly befriended faithful steed riding off into the sunset…

“You see, my son; the difference between forcing someone to change for their own good, and offering to aid them in doing so, is allowing them to make the choice to accept that help.”

Ok, so it was the first thing after all.

Rubbing the back of his head, Mikey looked up to his father with a sheepish expression. “Um, could you maybe try that again, but like, a little slower this time?”

Sensei sighed but he didn’t look too upset. He took a slow sip of his tea before trying again; “When the warrior attempted to approach the stallion while it was vulnerable and injured, it reacted with anger and mistrust. But when he allowed the stallion to approach _him_ instead, it felt safe and found comfort in the man’s presence.”

Michelangelo nodded, thinking hard about what he’d heard. “So I’m the warrior.” He said thoughtfully, “And Donnie’s the horse. He’s already come to me, so…” His eyes widened and he shot his head up with a gasp. “Oh-oh! I can’t touch him, but he can touch me! Donnie can touch me!”

The oven dinged behind him, signaling that the pizza was done. “Thanks, Sensei!” He said in a rush, snatching up his oven mitts before sprinting to the oven. Quick as he could he pulled the steaming beauty from the hot wire rack and sprinted out of the kitchen. “Sorry, I gotta go! I got a wild horse to tame!”

Splinter chuckled as he watched his youngest son vanish in a whoosh of green and fluttering fabric. Michelangelo’s spirit was something he both admired and envied, and it was just the thing that Donatello needed right know, whether either one of them knew it or not. Leonardo’s reassurance and strength, Michelangelo’s spirit and love, and with any luck, Raphael’s-

“I’m not sure what’s funnier.” He heard a soft voice snicker from behind him, “Michelangelo butchering the context of ‘tame a wild horse,’ or you turning a CGI movie about training dragons into a Kōan. How to tame your Donatello, the turtle addition.”

He smiled into his tea as Miwa stepped out of the shadows, smirking. 

“Indeed,” He agreed, unable to help but smile this time, “But in this case, the origin of the story is not as important as the moral behind it. I just hope Donatello is as understanding…”

 

\------------------------------

Michelangelo raced through the lair, more pumped up than he’d been the day they’d all gone to the surface for the very first time. More pumped than when he’d first tried pizza…Ok, maybe not that pumped, but still, he was pretty pumped! He had a pizza and a plan, one that would work this time and he knew it!

He reached his door and threw it open, a resounding yelp and nervous growl filling his room as it banged against the wall. “Dude, I know what to do!”

Donatello, now crammed in the corner of Mikey’s bed with his hands brandished like claws, looked anything but thrilled; but that was ok, Mikey was going to fix that too!

“Do?” Repeated Donnie, slowly reaching for the TV remote, “About what exactly…?”

Ignoring the suspicion in his brother’s tone, Mikey scurried in and hooked the door closed with his foot. “You!” He said excitedly. Kicking away some empty pizza boxes, he plopped the hot stone and steaming pizza aside. “I know how to make things better, bro! Trust me!”

He spun back to his brother, unable to miss the way he flinched. _‘Oh right.’_ He thought, _‘I need to be slower.’_

“Just hear me out.” Said Mikey, crawling up onto the bed, “You know how you don’t like to be touched and stuff?”

Donnie was still watching him uneasily as Mikey shuffled across the sheets, “Yes…” He said flatly, “And I don’t want to explore the reasons why right now so-“

“That’s ok!” Said Mikey hurriedly, “We’re not going to. I got a different idea in mind.”

His older brother narrowed his eyes, still suspicious, just like the horse in Splinter’s story. 

“You don’t like to be touched, so I’m not going to.” He tucked his hands behind him and grinned, “Instead, _you_ can touch _me_. Go ahead, anywhere you want!”

Donnie cocked an eyeridge, looking less than enthused. “What…?”

“You don’t flinch when you touch other people.” Mikey explained, “So I won’t touch you. You can touch me instead. That way you can see how good it feels. It’ll be just like the night Raph came to me.”

“Mikey…”

“Oh-oh!” Throwing himself down atop the sheets Mikey sprawled revealingly, his grin twisting into a smirk, “We can pretend we don’t know each other. Like, you’re my doctor ready to give me an exam~” 

He cringed, suddenly remembering that scientists called themselves doctors, and shot back up into a sitting position. “Or!” He said quickly, hoping he didn’t just kill any chance of his idea working, “Or, we can forget that idea, because that idea sounds lame.”

“Mikey.”

“I can pretend to be a statue.”

“Mikey!”

Yup, he’d blown it. 

Michelangelo flinched and slowly looked up, finding Donatello watching him. He didn’t look mad, or disgusted thankfully, if anything he looked…sad.

“Mikey, I…I can’t, I mean…” Donnie stopped and looked away, his hands clenching into fists. “Even if I wanted to, and I’m not saying that I don’t, I couldn’t. Intimacy is…It’s not-,” He sighed, looking almost painful as he bowed his head and clenched his jaw, “-possible. I don’t think…”

It was awful to watch, and even worse to know what Donnie was trying to say.

“You don’t have to do anything, D.” Mikey reassured gently, giving his older brother a soft smile, “I was just showing you what we _could_ do. You can touch me, in any way you’d like. That way you can see how it feels, not for sex, unless you want it that way, but just to touch somebody again.”

He met Donnie’s eye as his brother glanced up, searching Mikey’s face almost curiously.

“I know you’re scared to try anything,” Said Mikey, and Donnie’s eyes narrowed. He would be getting defensive next. “And that’s ok. That’s why I’m here, to help you, but only when you’re ready.”

Yup, he’d ruined the moment. Way to go Michelange-no, the lamest dude in the room, for the next five minutes anyway. After that, all lameness will be nullified by his super awesomeness and irresistible powers of cute. 

“Here, we can watch TV.” Mikey offered before Donnie could say a word, “Where’d you put the remote?” 

He glanced around the bed where Donnie was sitting, sure he’d seen Donatello reach for it.

“No idea.” He heard Donnie say before clearing his throat as Mikey lifted a pillow and then checked the floor. “Sooo, hey, how exactly _did_ that night turn out? The uh- the one where Raph came to you?”

Now leaning over the side of his bed, Mikey checked underneath and was met with a fierce army of dust bunnies barricaded behind empty Cheesy Puff bags. “Oh that?” He asked, frowning a little when he couldn’t find the precious remote.

“He just came in and said he wanted to show me how he felt. Asked me not to move, kissed me, you know, that sorta stuff. It was great and all, but it wasn’t like, especially hot or anything, not like when we had our first threesome.”

He heard a sound like a high pitched squeak as he shifted some old pizza boxes, “Your _what?!_ ” Donnie choked.

Nearly snorting in amusement, Mikey sat up and checked under the bed sheets one more time for the elusive remote. “ _Threesome_ , dude. Learn the lingo; it means sex with three people, at the same time.” 

Where the heck did the magical TV changer go? How was he supposed to flip through channels now!? 

“I know _that!_ ” Donnie spluttered, “I just didn’t expect…”

Mikey sat up, curiously glancing around the top of sheets once again; remotes couldn’t actually get up and walk away, right?

“I know you’re not into sex, but trust me, bro; it’s awesome. Leo’s a biter and super possessive. He looks at Raph when he’s fucking me like he wants to eat him. I think he’s challenging him to last as long as him or something, but _eh_ , I dunno’. And then Raph, _wow_ , I mean, I wasn’t expecting much, cuz, ya’ know, he’s not that much taller than me and it’s supposed to be based on height, right? But dude, I swear, it was like THIS big-“

Abandoning his search for the remote Mikey faced his brother and held his hands out apart from each other, indicating the approximate length of what he remembered Raph’s cock to be.

“-And it’s super thick too, with all these veins that feel amazing when it’s inside of-“

“Ok! OK!” Snapped Donnie, holding up his hands and looking anywhere but at Mikey, his cheeks as red as pizza sauce, “I don’t need that much detail.”

“Detail?” Asked Mikey, and he scoffed, “I don’t need to tell you details, I got pictures.” 

Rather proud of himself he reached for his belt and fished around for his T-phone.

“Right, I’m sure,” He heard Donnie mutter before once again he choked, “I-wait, HOW DO YOU HAVE PICTURES?!”

For a split second Mikey grew concerned when he couldn’t locate his phone, only to remember that Leo had taken it to prevent it from falling into Donnie’s reach and keep their brother from contacting his snakey boy-toy. “Uh, _duh_ \- camera on the T-Phone, bro!” Said Mikey, playing it cool so Donnie wouldn’t grow suspicious, “Just aim and click.”

Staring at him, red faced and jaw hanging, Donnie didn’t seem to notice that he hadn’t actually pulled out his phone yet.

“And Raph just let you take a picture of his…his…”

“Actually it’s a picture of the two of us. Leo took it- my mouth was full and I couldn’t see the screen from that angle. Oh! There’s another one where I’ve got their jizz all over my-”

“Stop!” Donnie’s voice was cracking now. “I get the idea, just...” He groaned and dragged his hands down his face, and peered over his fingers. “Do I even want to know how you talked Leo into taking a picture of THAT?”

Mikey shrugged. “I told him I’d delete it.”

Donatello narrowed his eyes at him in disbelief. Why was it they never believed him? How hurtful…

“What?” He asked innocently, “I will. I just haven’t decided when yet.” Leaning forward on the sheets Mikey grinned at the taller turtle. “Sooo?” He asked playfully, “Didja’ wanna see? Or…”

Still beaming red, Donnie shook his head. “No, I-“ He stopped, seeming to think for a moment before his cheeks burned even redder. “N-no.” He stuttered snapping his legs closed as he shook his head again, avoiding all eye contact. “I’m good. I’m just gonna, you know, sit here for a minute…and not move.”

Michelangelo’s heart fluttered excitedly as he caught a whiff of something he recognized; arousal, pure and honest, coming off of his taller brother and stirring that tingling feeling in his gut.

Maybe he wasn’t going about this whole, taming the horse thing right, but at least now knew what made Donnie squirm, and in the good kind of way! That counted as a win in his book, so it wasn’t a total loss after all! Now he just needed to pull out the latest season of _“Homicide She Wrote”_ and- oh right, the remote was missing. 

“D, were in the midst of a cat-ass-trophy. The remote’s totally gone!” He whimpered and flopped down atop the bed, “What’d you do with it?

“Why do you think I did something with it?! And the word is _catastrophe!_ ” He heard Donnie snap, “Seriously Mikey, you don’t clean your room enough, or at all actually.”

“Ugh, you sound like April and Shinigami.” Mikey groaned. “I think Leo stopped in here earlier, maybe he-?”

“You know what.” Donnie interrupted. “I- I wanna try something.”

Try something? To find the remote? Wait… His eyes widened and his head shot up. “What, really?”

Donnie was still in the corner of the bed, his arms folded tight across his chest. “Yes. I thought about what you said and I’d like to try it. No guarantees though.” He said quietly, looking anything BUT a turtle who wanted to try something new. Was he pushing himself? Forcing himself to try and be tamed just to make Mikey feel better? Not cool…

Sitting up, Mikey’s smile softened. “Look, I was just excited before.” He said, raising his hand to reach out to Donnie, “Ex-ex…ex-ub-er-ent, or whatever the word is. You don’t have to-“

But before he could so much as rest his hand on his brother’s shoulder, Donnie looked up and met his gaze, those reddish brown eyes soft and a little unsure, and for a minute everything was quiet apart from the sound of the genius turtle swallowing his nerves. “Let’s pretend.” He whispered, and tentatively his hand rose. “You know, that we never ran into that ambush.” 

With his own hand still in the air, Mikey didn’t move, watching as Donatello reached for him, and brushed feather light against his palm. “For just a minute, let’s imagine that I…I came to you, and told you how I felt.”

It tickled, but Mikey didn’t dare move. His mouth was suddenly dry and he refused to blink just in case it ruined…whatever this was. “Ok, but, h-how do you feel?” He asked softly, “Like, a good sorta feel, or a bad one? Because I brought Pizza and that should make anything better.”

Donatello smiled as he twined his fingers with Mikey’s. “Warm. Like how I used to feel around April… And, comfortable.”

“Really?” Mikey asked, breathless but hopeful, “You’re not just saying that because of..?”

“If you promise to let me make the moves, I’d like to kiss you, Mikey. I, I want to be sure of what I’m feeling.” The older turtle looked a little more sure now; his hand skimming across the youngest’s skin, sending a shiver up Michelangelo’s spine. “And, it has nothing to do with April being with Casey. I’m doing this because… I want to.”

Right, they were pretending.

Swallowing down a gulp of nervousness of his own, Mikey nodded enthusiastically but didn’t move from his spot as Donnie slowly shifted forward. 

Was this real? It was real right? They were just pretending to get Donnie’s mind off of everything that happened, not to just make Mikey feel better…right?

Donatello was moving slowly but deliberately, the hand on Mikey’s shoulder sending tingles across his skin as it slid up along his collarbone to his neck. He knew he’d said he wouldn’t move, but he shifted his head anyway, exposing his neck, and closed his eyes, relishing the feel of such a delicate caress. 

Leo’s touches were firm but loving, Raphael’s were dominating and passionate even when he was trying to be soft, but Donnie, he was so tender and so careful. It reminded Mikey of how his brainy brother would treat the techno treasures he used to scavenge from scrapyards; overflowing with excitement at the possibility of a new discovery, but still gentle as he examined the wonders of his prize. Being under those same, curious hands made Mikey feel just as special.

He sensed Donatello draw closer, could feel the breath hot on his skin, and then shuddered as lips pressed lightly against his.

It probably lasted for only a few seconds, but to Mikey felt like hours. The kiss was sweet but simple, nothing like the delicious heat that his other brothers’ ravished his mouth with, and yet it still pulled at him somehow, made him long for more contact, to feel his brother pressed against him, to touch him back.

As Donnie pulled away ever so slightly, Mikey couldn’t help the whimper that escaped him- he didn’t want it to be over already! Opening his eyes, that for the life of him he couldn’t remember even closing, he felt Donnie pull his hand close and then lower it to rest against the outer part of Donatello’s thigh. 

Their foreheads touched, their eyes met, and Mikey might as well have been tasting pizza for the very first time all over again.

“I’ve been thinking.” Donnie whispered, and Mikey’s heart was doing cartwheels in his chest, “We should try this more often.”

Mikey nodded feverishly but kept in place, refusing to move any part of his body other than his hand that Donnie guided up then back down his leg. 

“I don’t know how much I can handle- It’s, well, whenever you guys get too close… It’s overwhelming.” Donnie whispered, “Not knowing when it’s going to happen, or where you might brush against me or how much pressure you’re going to use and- and I’m never sure how I’ll… react.” Donatello visibly swallowed and it wasn’t hard to guess that he was remembering how many times he’d already violently lashed out at his brothers when they caught him off guard, and that was without physical contact. 

“But, right now, like this-“ He nodded his head down towards where he was still puppeteering Mikey’s hand to lay against his hip. “- I don’t mind it, I thought I would, but… I think I could be ok with this.”

“Practice.” Mikey murmured, “The more you do it the more you’ll get used to it. Right? I don’t mind, I actually really like it.”

“Uh huh,” Donnie hummed, smirking despite his blush, “I can smell that.”

Giving him a smile in return, Mikey slowly reached up with his other hand and waited for Donnie to move it where he wanted; the top of his plastron. “Any chance I can get seconds?”

Never before had Michelangelo been so excited over a simple nod. The cartwheels in his chest were now full on backflips as their lips met again and he had to work to keep himself grounded and just savor the moment.

Kissing Donnie was a million times better than pizza.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just so you're not lost, "To tame a wild horse" is a Buddhist metaphor for curbing one's sexual desires. Also, a koan is a Zen story used to teach a moral or provoke deeper thought.


	29. Ch. 29

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning's  
> Swearing, torture, gore and yuck. Lots of fucked up stuff. You have been warned.

The day R1-13 broke out, running rampant through the laboratory trying to free every mutant he came across, he’d found a room, one filled with terrible things. Mutants covered in their own feces, half dead from starvation, living in darkness…tortured.

At the time he hadn’t understood what its purpose was, or what anyone could possibly learn from leaving anything in such neglect. But now he knew…

Sensory deprivation; from what he’d once read in an old worn out and water-stained Psychology book he’d dug out of the trash years ago, it was a psychological torture technique developed in the 1960’s by a group called NATO that caused extreme anxiety, vivid hallucinations, and depression for the sake of interrogation. 

But interrogation wasn’t the end goal of this mind game. Knowing Grail, this was just a way to see how long it would take a mutant to revert back to an animalistic or primal state when food, water, human contact, and even light was withheld. 

Plus, there was a sadistic benefit to keeping Thirteen so comfortable in darkness… One bright light, a high pitched noise, a bit of vibration in the floor and he never saw them coming. But that didn’t mean he was about to let them win.

Having caught on to Grail’s plan to slowly minimize his food and water intake, Donnie had cleverly begun to ration his already dwindling food supply. Weakness was something he knew he couldn’t afford, and he planned on sticking it to that psychopath in every way possible.

He had a good amount of food stashed beneath the straw of his nest now. If he rationed it properly it would last him a week or two, and as long as the food kept coming once a day, he may be able to extend his rations to last even longer. At least that was plan anyway…though it didn’t seem like luck was on his side.

His stomach growled as he waited in front of the food bowl that had been carved out of the wall. There was a nickel-sized hole at the base of it that should’ve opened up and dispensed his meager handful of kibble some time ago. He wasn’t sure when exactly it was supposed to have happened, but he knew that the designated feeding time had come and gone. His internal clock was never wrong, at least not yet…That was another symptom of prolonged sensory deprivation he had to watch out for.

He sighed irritably as he watched the food dispenser, still waiting for it to pop open and give him his daily allotted food allowance. Thankfully his eyes had adjusted quite well to the constant darkness, leaving him able to make out most of his cage and the lab when he moved around, so he was able to watch the small hole for what felt like hours without interruption. 

Absolutely riveting. 

The sound of a slight mechanical hum made him tense, his eyes widening as he watched the bowl. Was it food? Or maybe it was time for his water. Hopefully it was the food.

His answer came in the form of a flash of blinding light, one that seared his eyes and sent him cringing into the floor. “Damnit, Grail!” He spat as a high pitched ringing sound pierced through the room and the floor began to vibrate. 

Metallic claws came out of nowhere and clamped around his neck, slamming him to the ground as rough hands snapped around his arms and legs. 

They must’ve snuck in while he was focused on his bowl, waiting for the food that he’d grown so used to watching for. Of course, it was a pattern, something they could use to their advantage as they no doubt observed and analyzed his every move. He realized this as they dragged him across the cage despite his flailing protests and slammed him up onto the table. It was his own stupid mistake, and he knew he couldn’t let it happen again.

One by one his arms were strapped down, his head forced still, and his eyes pried open. The light burned, and he snapped at them like always to try and catch a stray hand too slow to escape his teeth, but not today, they were unusually quick, that or his reflexes were slowing from reduced protein. It was hard to say.

A cool yet stinging liquid was dropped in his eyes that made him hiss and try to jerk away, but he couldn’t move, and they weren’t about to let him either. 

“Stohp squ _eh_ rmeen!” Snapped Ariel above him, “It will help you see fastah, idiot.”

“Bitch.” He spat, throwing an insult just to throw one. Shell, he hated her.

“Aw, come now.” Came another voice, and Thirteen growled. “Don’t be that way; you know you’ve missed us~”

Grail…

Thirteen snarled out “About as much as secretory diarrhea. Something I hope you get. _Frequently._ ”

The red headed man chuckled from somewhere in the room. “Just relax and let the drops do their work. Then we can continue our fun.”

“Spherical bastard.” Grunted Thirteen, and to his delight, one-person chuckled and it wasn’t Grail.

“Beg your pardon?” He heard Grail mumble as his vision began to clear, and ever so softly the voice of Eric, one of his first tormenters, answered. 

“It’s a play on words, sir. It means no matter how the turtle looks at you, you’re always a bastard.”

Donatello couldn’t help but smile. The witty remark had just tumbled out on a whim, but now he was thinking, trying to come up with more. Any win was a good win. 

Just as Ariel had said they would, his eyes adjusted back to the bright fluorescents above within moments of the drops administration. He could see them now, all of them. Ariel; the April clone, Eric; the thick shouldered henchmen, and Grail…

He glared at the man the moment he saw him, and all Grail did was grin.

“Oh, there you are. Clever boy.” Murmured Grail, walking up to him and the table. “I have something to show you, something that I think you might find impressive.”

“I doubt that.”

Grail moved around him to his head and Donnie felt the cart begin to move. 

“You know, I’ve had to do a lot of quick thinking because of you.” Grail mentioned casually as he wheeled him through the lab, “I almost lost everything. My funding, my research, my job.”

“Good.”

Unfazed, Grail simply sighed and leaned down closer to him as they moved. “Back when you terminated your own spawn, you remember, don’t you? Embryos in varies stages of development, floating in stasis, unable to fend for themselves as you shut off their life support systems. They drowned in the artificial amniotic fluid meant to keep them alive and safe, their bodies reacting on instinct to try to cling to life while you mashed buttons on a screen. Tell me, did you feel powerful when you eradicated them?”

His heart clenched and his stomach turned, but he kept a straight face despite it. “No. How about you?” He countered. “Did you feel like a big man when you weaponized innocent children and took away their ability to make choices?”

“Nope.” Grail replied, surprisingly cheery, “I felt like a smart man, and once we had two perfectly compatible DNA donors that did not need an ounce of splicing, I felt like the _richest_ man in the world. Even when R4-17, a rather large turtle compared to you, expired, I still had enough harvested ova left over to create and then clone as many of your offspring as I desired. Really it’s a shame she died before you were captured. I’d probably have set the two of you up in a breeding room and let you two get better acquainted~”

Glaring up at the twisted man Thirteen hissed. "If you’re waiting for me to care, I hope you brought something to read, because it’s going to be a really long time.” Grail however just kept smiling, pushing the cart down the hall.

The truth was Donnie _did_ care, he cared a lot, but shell did he not want to think about all those helpless would-be baby turtles, some still too young to be considered infants yet still formed enough that he could see his own features on their still developing faces. He didn’t even want to think about this poor, unknown mutant turtle girl that Grail had no doubt tortured as badly as Rahzar and then him… 

“But.” Murmured Grail, pulling his attention back to him, “Then you just had to go ahead and destroy everything.”

The cart came to a stop, and some lights flickered on revealing a wall with several large glass tubes.

“Leaving me, to become…creative.”

The table tipped and Donnie suddenly found himself upright, staring at a jar and a feathery something within it. It took him exactly three seconds before he realized just what, or rather, who he was looking at.

His jaw dropped, and his eyes widened in horror. “Sir Malachi!” He gasped before he could stop himself.

It was the sparrow mutant he and his brothers had encountered in the sewers; Martin Milton. Once a lonely human boy who loved fantasy role-playing games and had a penchant for over-dramatized medieval accents. Unlike many other mutants that had gone on a rampage after their transformation, he had decided the best way to deal with new body was through LARPING.

But there was nothing lively or playful about him now. The young bird’s eyes were glazed and vacant, his body stripped bare of his cloak and tunic, floating in a tube of liquid ooze. There were plastic lines attached to every inch of him, with tubes sticking out of his mouth and protruding from the back of his head. 

“Oh, you know him?” Asked Grail gleefully, “Excellent! Then you’re already aware of his unique ability to psionically project hallucinations into the mind. We had to kill all brain function in order to keep him from using his talents on us, but the cerebrospinal fluid his body produces has been more than helpful.”

Grail sounded far too pleased with himself, but Donnie only had eyes for the hapless mutant floating in front of him; not technically dead, but no more alive than a houseplant. 

Sir Malachi was never a bad kid, a little weird maybe, but all he had ever really wanted was a friend. Donnie was sure his parents were worried about him, and he had always meant to track the ‘Sparrow Wizard’ down after he created the retro-mutagen for Mr. O’Neil. But between the rise of Foot activity, the Kraang Invasion, trying to get April’s attention while being stuck in close quarters with Casey Jones for months on end, he just… Forgot. He forgot all about curing poor Milton and now look where they were.

It was Timothy all over again.

He wasn’t allowed to dwell on that thought as Grail tugged the cart sideways so Donnie was now facing yet another tube, one with…with…Pizza? What the shell?

“And _this._ ” Grail gestured to the floating slice of cheese and pepperoni. “If you’ll believe it, is a mutant cheese pizza slice with the ability to turn who ever consumes its cheese into a mindless drone programmed to carry out its master’s will.”

No, he didn’t believe it. What rational thinking person would? Mind-controlling Pizza? That sounded like something Mikey would dream up after a long night of too much junk-food and cheap comic-books.

“-When combined…” Donnie was suddenly jerked away as the table was slammed back down into a horizontal position, leaving him to stare at the ceiling, “...It opens up a whole new world of possibilities.” 

The twisted man appeared above him, smiling as wide as ever.

“I’m going to make you walk into your home.” He whispered, “Gather up your family, and then bring them to me.” He held up a scalpel and pressed it to Donnie’s cheek. 

Thirteen cringed as the sting of the sharp blade dug into his flesh, but he refused to let it show, keeping his gaze locked on Grail in a daring glare. “And then, when they’re crying and screaming for you. I’ll have you be the one to cut into them; One. By. One.”

The blade sliced deep across his cheek, digging in and then downwards as Grail scored it across his neck.

“Scream for me.” The scalpel stung as it was dragged across his collar bone. “I want to hear everything.”

 

\--------------------------------------

 

To his shame, Donatello DID scream, every, single, time Grail pulled him out in the days that followed.

‘Monotonous’ was never a word he thought he would apply to literal torture; but after the constant repetition of being flayed, healed, re-branded, then flayed again, he was hard pressed to come up with a more apt description. 

He was their cutting board now, just a thing to score knives across and carve hunks from in order to somehow perfect a healing serum that seemed to work just fine in Donatello’s opinion. 

To make matters worse, the food he’d been waiting for never came to him again. 

He was hungry now, always hungry. His stomach twisting up inside him like it was trying to collapse in on itself. Grail would always be there to mock him, sometimes even eating in front of him while they sliced into his muscles like turtle-sashimi. 

Donnie had never truly experienced hunger before, not really. Nutrition wasn’t exactly in abundant supply down in the sewers, but Master Splinter had always made sure to keep them fed, one way or another. Sure, there had been times during colder winters when food was harder to come by and they’d all had to skip a meal or two, but this…this was a whole ‘nother level. 

His stomach clenched and growled, his head throbbed from a constant headache, and it was everything he could do not to plunge into the store of food he’d stashed away. He longed for food of any kind, his mouth watering at the mere thought of a banquet sitting just inches beneath him in the straw.

He wanted food. A piping hot triple order of Murakami’s Pizza gyoza. Double chocolate and peanut-butter fudge brownies with a marshmallow topping. An extra-large Pizza with mushrooms, onions, anchovies, and three different types of cheese. A cappuccino with a mountain of whipped cream covered in chocolate sprinkles. Even a big, heaping bowl of algae and worms would hit the spot right now…

He _really_ needed to stop thinking about food. Fantasizing about what he couldn’t eat was so not helping. Not that there was anything else to do.

It was too painful to move; his joints cracking and muscles trembling whenever he tried. So he just laid there, chewing on a piece of straw to keep his mouth busy as he focused on the wall. How long has it been? Was it only days, or had it been weeks since he’d last eaten a meal? Shell, he didn’t know…Didn’t know anything anymore apart from the fact that he’d lost a tremendous amount of weight. No way he could get by calling himself ‘svelte’ anymore; he was a stick. Might as well have been a six-year-old going through a gangly growth spurt all over again. It was nothing but pain, hunger, and the occasional hallucination due to dehydration and…and…something. He couldn’t remember that either. Shell, his head hurt.

A rattling sound clattered out of nowhere and his heart lept up into his throat so fast he wouldn’t have been surprised if it had popped out of his mouth. Every bone cracked and popped as he spun to face the sound, a violent hiss worthy of his old snake friend escaping him out of reflex. His muscles screamed as he searched for the source of the sound, daring any of the humans to try and come at him in the dark; only to pause, his nose twitching.

He could smell something familiar, something… _really_ good!

He straightened, sniffing at the air, and cautiously began to creep towards the smell. It was coming from the wall, and it smelled like food, not that he could clearly remember what proper food smelled like anymore, but more than that, it smelled like a meal; a cooked, steaming, meaty meal. Any caution he had was replaced with an agonizing rumble of his stomach and desperate urge to eat as he began to inspect the wall.

Shell help Grail if darts shot out at him while he was looking for food…

He checked and double checked his bowl but there was nothing. He ran his hand along the edges of the wall but found no change. He could smell it, like a blood hound on a scent, it was definitely there, coming from the wall.

Maybe there was a hidden compartment? Or maybe this was Grail’s new way of torturing him…

He stopped his blind search, the thought hitting him like a ton of bricks. “Bastard.” He groaned, thunking his head against the wall. Of course it was a mind game. It was always a mind game.

His hand tightened into a fist and his chest heaved as a swell of emotion twisted worse than his stomach. He was angry, he was sad, his whole body hurt, and the smell of food hurt. It actually hurt. Never before had he been so close to crying…

He was just about to pull away and slump back to the floor in misery, when something ‘dinged’ above him. He jumped and looked up when a small section of the wall, just a few inches to his right, slid apart. 

Donnie blinked, staring at what appeared to be a panel containing a single button next to ten small LED lights behind a thick layer of glass.

“What the-?” The words barely made it out of his mouth when one of the little lights lit up.

“Gah!” He yelped and recoiled, clutching his eyes. “Ow, bright light! Bright light!”

_‘Well, that was shitty of them…’_ He thought bitterly.

He blinked and rubbed at his face until the image was no longer imprinted in his retinas, and only then did he dare look at the stupid thing again. 

The light was dull, but to him, after being in total darkness for so long it was blinding and about as painful as the hunger that stabbed at his stomach. Thankfully there was only one to deal with, so he studied it, and then the button. 

Apparently his wardens knew better than to allow him direct access to any electronic device without taking precautions; the surface of the button was flat and laid flush with the panel itself, the inset design made it impossible to simply pry out without having some kind of tool. Even with his claws now grown out, they were far too bulky to try to wedge between the button casing and the paneling to gain access to the internal wiring. 

Curiously, he lifted a weak hand and poked at the button, only to jump yet again as something clanked from his left, followed by a light ‘flump’.

The scent of food grew stronger, and his eyes widened. There was something in his food dish.

He dove for it, every limb cracking, and scarfed it down without a second thought. He barely got to taste it as he swallowed it whole, but based on the smell he would say that it was pork that had been horribly overcooked, but he honestly didn’t care. It was food, it was warm, and it was wonderful!

He looked back at the button, the light now off, and pressed it again, hoping it would produce more meat. He pressed it again, then again, but nothing happened. He was about to punch the damn thing in frustration, when the whole box retracted and the wall slid shut. 

Groaning weakly, Donnie thunked his head against the cold concrete. Of course they wouldn’t make this easy; he was supposed to be starving…

He sunk down to his nest and curled up in the straw, once more blocking out the tantalizing scents of the dry kibble he’d stashed below it. He’d used up so much energy trying to locate the source of the smell that now all he wanted was some sleep; so he closed his eyes. 

Screw them and their malfunctioning button… 

Donnie didn’t quite remember falling asleep, but knew he must have at some point, for a loud ‘ding’ had him startling awake. Just like before, he shot upright, his bones creaking in protest like un-oiled hinges, but he refused to remain still. 

He looked curiously at the wall, and just like last time a small section slid open, revealing the same panel and button. Cautiously he squinted, waiting for the light, and sure enough it came, only this time three of them lit up.

“No…” He murmured, scooting closer. 

Raising his hand he poked the button once, but nothing happened. He pressed it again, checking his bowl, but still nothing happened. He poked it one last time, and the ‘flumping’ sound and smell of cooked meat filled his cage yet again.

“No…” He repeated incredulously, glancing at the food and then back at the lights, which had now changed from three to seven.

“You have _got_ to be kidding me.” 

It was a training method used on laboratory rats; ‘Magazine training’, as he recalled. A behavior conditioning method where a rat was purposely starved until it would discover that by clicking a lever, a food pellet would be dispensed from a container or a ‘magazine’ of food just out of reach, leading it to associate the action with a reward, and eventually becoming willingly dependent on the lever, or in this case, the availability of a button, for survival. 

Obedience training. 

_‘Of all the asinine- what’s next?! Jumping through hoops? Solving a maze?!’_

He had half a mind to yell out a few choice words for his ‘gracious hosts’ to hear and then purposefully starve… But what point would that make? He’d have his dignity, yes, but he’d still be hungry, weak…incapable of escape.

He reached out to the bowl and scooped up the meat, examining the slightly browned pinkish- white flesh. Would lowering his standards be worth the outcome? The answer to that was easy. If he got to kill Grail, escape, see freedom, then yes. Yes, it would be more than worth it.

He popped the modest provision into his mouth and turned back to the panel, pressing the button seven more times. Sure enough, another small portion of cooked meat was deposited into his bowl and he found himself glaring at it. 

Of all the things he’d done, this was the lowest of the low. He scooped up the meat and looked it over once more before popping it into his mouth as well. It was chewy with a strange dirty flavor that made him suspect that it’d probably been dropped on the floor once or twice during hasty preparation, but that was ok. It was still way better than kibble and it was the sustenance he needed to stay alive.

If Grail wanted to play games then Donnie would go along with it, for _now_ anyway.

 

\--------------------------------------------------

 

Every day he sat before the wall. Waiting, watching. Then when the ‘ding’ came he’d patiently press the necessary amount of times and wait, eat, then wait again. 

Of course Grail couldn’t resist rubbing his ‘success’ and R1-13’s ‘progress’ in his face every chance he got. Thirteen made the mistake of snapping at him once when he did, and it earned him three days of no food. He looked at Grail wrong, and meals were withheld for two. 

It was a game of control, one that required Thirteen to swallow his pride in order to keep receiving the food that would eventually give him the strength he needed to break free. 

With his forced compliance came an epiphany; Grail was attempting to use repetitious dependent behavior as a means to ‘re-program’ his behavior, and so far it looked like the mad Doctor had the upper hand…

A memory came unbidden to his mind; one of Leonardo hesitant to spar with their Sensei who had given him a seemingly unfair advantage, only to get a face full of floor as Master Splinter deftly explained that fighting while blindfolded wasn’t just about trying to enhance the other senses:

_“…It is about perception, and giving the illusion of control.”_

The illusion of control… 

Maybe instead of fighting harder, it was time to fight smarter.

Grail already thought he was winning, so why not let him? Why not act exactly the way Grail wanted him to, get the food he needed, regain his strength and…if he played his cards right, trick Grail into lowering his guard once he believed he had what he wanted; obedience and control. 

If Grail had truly come close to losing his backers and precious funding as he claimed, then maybe he was just as desperate for results as Donnie was for food. There was only way to find out…

\----------------------------------------------------

In the weeks that followed, Donatello was the very definition of submission; When addressed directly, he lowered his head, avoiding any eye contact that could be perceived as a challenge to authority. He kept his mouth shut and did as he was told. 

The men would come into his cage and he wouldn’t try to kill them. He allowed every taunt and jeer Grail laughed out to roll over him with without the slightest hint of indignation or desire to respond with a snarky retort of his own; he even went as far as to stop talking all together. 

He would rise when ordered, calmly crawl up onto the cart and wait patiently as he was strapped down as per routine, and though he once had the opportunity to do so, he didn’t rip out Ariel’s throat and instead remained perfectly still, focusing on muffling his screams as she re-branded him without a care in her bitchy little head.

Grail was just as much of an arrogant prick as Donatello hoped he would be! Planning meetings, giddily commenting to his staff about the possibility for new experiments and stretching the turtle’s boundaries even further, all the while carving larger chunks from Donnie’s legs and arms to better test speed of the healing rate of the serum, which admittedly, was increasing.

He even heard the ‘good’ Doctor talking about letting one of the braver scientists try to sit with him inside his cage for the day for observation. 

Of course Donatello planned to be on his best behavior…until he had Grail alone~

Hoping that day would come soon, Donatello sat before the wall, waiting for the panel to open. It was a complex series of patterns now. He had to press the stupid button in quick succession depending on how many times the lights blinked on and then off. If he missed the changing of the lights or lost count, then he’d have to start all over again. Six presses then two, then one, then seven, then ten, three, three, six, seven, nine and ten again, or something more complex. The length of the pattern changed every day, and his finger was beginning to hurt…

Suddenly the wall opened and the panel was exposed. 

Five, four, four, four, eight, nine.

He jabbed the button as quickly as the lights came, pretty sure that he’d become a pro at video games when his brothers finally brought him home. He was already fantasizing about the look on Raph’s face when he would finally beat his _‘Atomic Robo-X’_ high score.

Just like all the other times he won the battle of the button, a clanking rattled the wall of his cage. Only this time, instead of a ‘flump’, there was a ‘splat’ as something slapped into his bowl. 

Caught off guard by the strange sound, Donatello raised an eyeridge and peered cautiously into his bowl to sniff at its contents. The porky musk confirmed it was the same meat as always, only now it was… Moist?

“Eww…” 

His face wrinkled in disgust at the sight of the raw flesh. They hadn’t cooked it, not even a little! Was this a new kind of test? Where they trying to measure his nausea levels now?

Gingerly he picked it up his supposed dinner and curled his lip at it. “Seriously?” He muttered under his breath, before he closed his eyes and took a deep breath. _‘ You can do this. Just suck it up.’_ He thought, _‘You’re a turtle, completely immune to salmonella bacteria. It’ll be worth it in the long run…No matter how gross it is.’_

Thankfully the morsel was small enough to swallow whole, and so that’s exactly what he did. He closed his eyes, pinched his nose, and slurped the disgusting thing down. 

It was cold and slippery as it slid down his throat. That same dirt-like aftertaste hitting his tongue even stronger now; and he was convinced more than ever that they were dragging his meals on the ground just for giggles before serving it to him. 

Unable to help it, he gagged and shuddered, but kept it down. This was all a battle of wills and his was far stronger.

Completely grossed out, but still hungry, he turned back to the panel, waiting for his next set of instructions. 

One, three, six, nine.

He jabbed at the button until his bowl clanked again, and this time he was rewarded with a much louder and heavier slap, as a larger piece slipped out. 

So they wanted him to chew it…fantastic…

Letting out an audible grunt of disgust, he reached over and picked the slab of meat up. He was about to lift it to his mouth when he felt something, a strange raised roughness against the flesh. Curiously he flipped it over to examine it, hoping it wasn’t mold. Turtle or not, he had his limits.

Even squinting through the darkness, it certainly didn’t look like any mold he had ever seen. If anything, it looked like a word. No…numbers. It was definitely numbers.

Donatello could feel the color drain from his face.

Sitting in his hand was a section of pale olive flesh, whitish pink on the underside, and branded into the topside was ‘R1-13’.

His horrified yell became a strained retching sound as he tossed his own muscle and skin across the room. He tried to scramble away but his stomach seized up, and he found himself vomiting across the floor. 

Why hadn’t he put it together before? All those cutting sessions made sense now in some cruel and twisted way; the increased food portions, the re-branding, the familiar smell… This whole time, this _whole_ time he’d been eating… They’d actually been feeding him… OH SHELL!

Donnie shuddered and retched again, clutching at the floor, trying not to think about the content of the warm liquidly substance that was now pooling at his hands and knees. 

“Not feeling well?” He heard a honeyed voice hum between his dry heaves, “Well, we certainly can’t have that. We have a demonstration this evening. Now, why don’t you be a good turtle and climb up here on your table? I’ll have Ms. Nowak fix you up something to settle your stomach.”

His table? 

Breathing heavily, Donnie looked up from his spewed matter, just able to make out the scientists across the room waiting on the other side of his cage door, dimly lit from behind by the florescent lighting in the hallway just outside the now open lab doors.   
They had prepped his usual metal gurney to cart him away to the cutting room. One of them held a small cardboard box he didn’t recognize but no doubt contained some sort of tool or prop intended to be used for whatever _‘demonstration’_ they had planned.

“Chop-chop R1-13, we haven’t all day.”

No…they didn’t have all day…

Curling his hands into fists, Thirteen slowly got to his feet. 

“That’s it.” He heard Grail call, “I know you’re not well, but time is of the essence.”

Time…Somehow, someway, Donnie would find more of it. 

He turned to face Grail, his eyes narrowed, and fixed them on the man standing behind the reinforced glass.

“Fuck you.”

They were silent. Not a single man or woman moved.

“Pardon?” Asked Grail, the sweet tune to his voice faltering.

“I’m sorry, you must not have understood me.” Snapped Thirteen, baring his teeth, “Go find a scalpel, sit on it and rotate, you fucking poor excuse for a hominid!”

“Wha-no, what’s happening?” He heard Grail ask, “Did someone administer the hallucinogenic? I told you all it wasn’t ready for testing just yet. Someone sedate -”

“You’ve been feeding me MYSELF!” Thirteen roared over him, “What did you expect was going to happen when I felt my own brand in my hand?!”

“What?” Asked Grail flatly. 

“I’m not an idiot!” Snarled Thirteen. “I felt it, I saw it. My own skin! You deranged jacka-“

A wild pain snapped through his body, cutting him off mid word as the air around him came to life with the familiar crackle of electricity. His jaw snapped shut and his body stiffened, sending him straight to the floor into his own puddle of bile.

“Who did this!?” Grail snarled loudly. “Who the _hell_ ruined weeks of work!? Do you have any idea how far this will set us back?! I have investors waiting upstairs expecting to see a progress demonstration in fifteen minutes!”

Thirteen’s body writhed in agony, a high pitched squeal sounding from behind his clamped teeth.

“I want a list of everyone who had access to the feed chamber. NOW!”

The pain stopped, and Donnie crumpled into a panting mess on the floor. He gasped and shuddered, his heart beating wildly out of rhythm. The electricity had been amped up, way up, past anything he’d grown accustomed to.

“As for you.” He heard Grail growl, “Daily-prepared steak not good enough for you? Fine. Then how about this.”

He heard the rustling of cardboard, the sound of his cage door opening, could just barely feel the tremors of footfalls thudding nearer.

_‘Get up.’_ Donnie’s mind screamed at him, pleading to his body, still twitching uncontrollably as his muscles spasmed, _‘He’s coming. Get up!’_

“You won’t get another meal until this one is gone.” Something clattered down beside him, a heavy hard something that sounded almost like a rock hitting concrete. “And I expect you to eat every last bite of it.”

The footsteps stormed off, and it was everything Donnie could do to simply lift his head and peer shakily towards the door. He couldn’t see Grail, but he could see what had been left behind.

Lying before him was what looked to be… wait, it really was a rock?

Did Grail actually expect him to eat this? How-?

No…as he watched he realized that it was much worse, as the rock twitched slightly and a little head poked out. 

It was a turtle. A living, breathing, regular red eared slider, roughly twelve inches in length, and looked just as bewildered by Donnie’s presence as Donatello was of it; and Grail, expected him to eat it.


	30. Ch. 30

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning- Major character death

Donatello sat on the cushions of the couch, his blanket loosely around him, a handful of sprinkles in one hand and a can of whipped cream in the other. 

“Come. Here.” He growled through gritted teeth. “You’re getting ice crystals.”

A pink head popped up from the freezer chest and hissed, ears plastered to her ice cream head, before disappearing back down into the depths of her ice cube castle.

“Forget it, bro!” Mikey laughed, “You force her out now and we’ll all be covered in ice-cream.” 

Begrudgingly Donatello grumbled and closed the lid to the freezer. “You should be the one caring for your cat, Mikey, not me.” He huffed. 

Setting down the whipped cream, Donnie sat back on the couch and crossed his arms. “Having a pet is a serious responsibility, one I think you’re taking lightly.”

The orange banded turtle appeared over the side of the couch, pizza in hand with a grin a mile wide. “Fix the freezer in the kitchen and I’ll take this freezer away and take care of her by myself again.”

“Go get my tools and I’ll do so.” Donnie countered, but Mikey just kept grinning. 

“No can do, D! You have to get them yourself.”

Grumbling he sank into the cushions. His tools were in the lab, and nothing, absolutely nothing, was going to make him set foot in there.

“I don’t see what the big problem is.” Chimed in his personal watch dog; Karai, sitting on the couch just a few cushions away. “It’s not like there’s anything in there that’ll surprise you. It was your lab then and it’s your lab now.”

Fixing his gaze on the TV, Donnie bit back a snarl and tried to focus on the news. “What are you doing here, anyway?” He asked, attempting to keep the bitterness from his tone. “And don’t say _‘watching the news again’_ because all you do is complain about it.”

“Fine, I’m watching _you_ watch the news.” He heard her reply with a slight hint of amusement.

Sweet mother of mutation, didn’t she have anything better to do?

He watched the man on the TV gesture to a weather map, pointedly trying to ignore the smart-aleck Kunoichi. For some reason she had made it a habit to join him in watching the news every single day. Though, ‘watching’ was perhaps a bit too generous. What she really did was interrupt by throwing in unprompted commentary, so much so that it was a wonder he was able to hear what the news Anchors were saying at all. 

Karai could be more distracting than Michelangelo when she wanted to be apparently, seemed to enjoy it, too. What Donnie couldn’t figure out was, _why?_

Donatello’s thoughts on his half-sister’s sudden desire to out-annoy Mikey were interrupted when a high pitch trill sounded from behind him.

He turned curiously and found Raphael, slurping down a soda with his alien pet chirping up a storm on his shoulder. 

“I don’t get why you’re always watching this.” He grunted.

_‘That comment had better be for Karai.’_ Thought Donnie, popping the sprinkles into his mouth.

“I mean, jeez Donnie, I know you like boring stuff, but come on! Don’t you wanna see if there’s something better on?”

_‘Damnit…’_

Fighting the urge to huff and glare at his bigger brother, Donnie shook his head. “You wouldn’t understand.” He said simply. Hoping that would be enough, when he felt weight press against the back of his seat cushion. 

“I guess not.” Raph muttered, sounding unimpressed before he let out a frustrated sigh. “Hey, uh…Could you just, you know, hold Chompy here for a second?”

Donnie looked incredulously around at him and sure enough found his brother holding the fuchsia colored extra-terrapin out to him.

Chompy, panting like a puppy with his little spiked-tail wagging, looked up at him with wide, purple, curious eyes and chirruped his excitement.

Donnie watched the Vorkathian Fire Tortoise hatchling for only a moment before he looked away and fixed his gaze back on the weather man. “No.” He said coldly.

“What? Why?!” Raph barked out irritably, somehow offended by his brother’s refusal. “Is this because you’re not allowed near the silverware?”

For a moment, Donatello simply sat there; trying to ignore the tiny alien pet, but his mind wouldn’t let him…

_…He lay on the floor of his cage, smiling as he watched his cell mate._

_The turtle was marching towards him with purpose, his large body waddling as he approached one of Donatello’s much larger hands._

_It stopped before his limp palm, its neck extending to peer a dark eye at one of his fingers. It stayed there for only a second, before continuing on its mission._

_Amused, Donnie watched as the turtle waddled up to his hand and then scooted its way beneath it. It stayed still, contemplating its next move, and then began to rock._

_Back and forth, side to side, it threw itself around, rubbing its scutes against Donatello’s palm._

_It was all Donnie could do not to laugh out loud. “Are you itchy?” He asked, biting back a grin. “Here, how about this.”_

_He moved his hand just enough to rest his fingertips atop the turtle’s shell, his nails just barely brushing its carapace._

_Seemingly delighted by this new turn of events, the turtle wiggled its butt even more, using Donnie’s nails to gently itch the scratch it couldn’t reach._

_“When my brothers find us, I’m going to build you a shell scratcher, along with the biggest underwater mansion a turtle could ever want. It’ll even have a basking station right next to an algae and worm pool, How’s that sound, little buddy?”…_

Donnie stiffened as the little turtle trilled again, “He’s your pet.” He snapped back, harsher than he’d intended, “YOU take care of him! If you need someone to hold him so badly, why don’t you give him to Mikey or Leo?”

“Whoa chill, bro.” Said Mikey softly, “Chompy’s a part of the family, like Ice-cream Kitty. They’re everyone’s pets.”

But Donnie just shook his head, every inch of him tensing. “I don’t want a pet.” 

“Aw, come on sure you-“

Whipping around and drawing his nictitating membranes over his retinas, he fixed Mikey with a white eyed-glare and hissed, word by word. “I. Don’t. Want. A. Pet.”

The younger turtle flinched, and Donatello swore he saw Raphael’s free hand dart to his Sai, while Karai’s drifted down to her Tantō.

“But…” Mikey whimpered.

_“Ever.”_ Donnie finished.

He looked back at the TV and let his eyes return to normal, refusing to acknowledge the hurt in Mikey’s, or the anger in Raphael’s. It was better this way, much better…

_“And in other news, Subway access at West 49th Street and 7th Ave, near the Rockefeller Center is closed today due to a small explosion caused by a faulty gas line.”_

Donnie’s interest perked as the man on the screen turned the report over to a woman in a bright red coat, standing just in front of some caution tape and orange cones that blocked access to the street. He missed the first few words as she began to speak on account of the obnoxiously loud snap of “I wouldn’t want him near my pet at all, yo.” that announced Casey’s arrival with April for their afternoon tea with Master Splinter. 

_“…police were dispatched after reports of gunfire flooded the station. It was here that they discovered the large crater leading down into the sewers. Officials are warning-“_

“Gun fire?” Murmured Donnie, and instead of watching the woman, he began to look for other things. In the background he could make out the crater that they were talking about. It was some distance away, but even on the TV he could tell the crater was made from anything but an explosion. 

The rocks were all caving into the ground; a burst of energy would’ve dispersed them outwards. There were hunks of metal, flipped over and dented cars, and…Shell, that was blood!

It was the messiest mutant capture he’d seen yet, and he’d seen quite a few of them. It was why he kept watching the news, to track them, see where they were hunting, trying to follow his friends’ path of carnage to decipher exactly how they were moving. 

“Don’t read too much into it, Donnie.” Came the voice of Leonardo, sounding close. “It’s New York, people hear gunshots all the time.”

He must’ve walked up on him right when he spoke.

“It’s the hunters.” Donnie said, ignoring his brother’s assurances, “They caught another mutant.”

He looked back at Leonardo, expecting to see a frown of concern, maybe even a flicker of anger in his eye, but instead Leo was watching him almost sadly.

“Donnie.” He began, but Donatello knew that look. He’d seen it a hundred times…

“Grail won’t just give up, Leo! He won’t rest until he has every single mutant locked behind bars, and our shells dangling from his ceiling on meat hooks! I – _we_ have to get up there!”

“It’s ok, Donnie.” He heard Mikey murmur, but Donatello continued to glare at his so-called Leader in blue. 

The eldest was still watching him with that sad pitying look that his family had been giving him. He didn’t need pity, and like shell did he need their version of ‘understanding’. He needed them to listen, and to act!

Leonardo held Donnie’s gaze, his expression remaining commiserative. 

“And do what?” He asked, sounding weary, “We’re _safe_ here, Donnie. Those people can’t get us. If we go out there now we run the risk of being caught, or worse, exposing our lair to them and leading them to our home.”

“No one is safe until Grail is dead.” Donnie countered flatly, “He’ll just keep looking for us, catching every single mutant he comes across as he scours every inch of the city. It doesn’t matter that we’re down here, eventually they’re going to find us!”

“Oh, not this again!” He heard Raph groan. “First you tell us not to leave the lair, and then all you want is to for us to charge on up to the surface. Make up your mind already!”

It was a fair statement, and on any other day Donatello would’ve conceded the point to his brother, but not today!

He spun towards Raph, finding Casey and April hovering close behind him. “Oh, so now you’re listening to me?” He spat, “Maybe you should’ve done that the day you bolted straight into a trap that got me captured by sadistic freaks!”

Raphael looked livid, clutching Chompy like he was contemplating ordering his precious pet to light Donnie’s tail on fire when Leo stepped between them.

“Woah woah, hey. Let’s all just calm down.” He said quickly, patting the air peaceably, “We’re all feeling a little tense right now, but taking it out on each other is only going to make us say hurtful things we don’t really mean.” Leo looked pointedly at Donatello, making it obvious that last sentiment was directed specifically towards him, “Right?” 

Leo was waiting for him to verbally agree and Donnie had half a mind to tell him to stick it in his shell, but decided against the idea. He needed them to cooperate and listen to him, not butt heads and argue. 

Instead of answering, Donatello simply huffed out his annoyance and took a deep breath. “We need to stop Grail.” He repeated, calmer this time, “It’s asinine to just wait around and hope things will get better by acting like nothing is going on...”

He chose to ignore Mikey as Raphael elbowed him in the side for asking if he had just called Leo an ass in German, in the loudest ‘whisper’ he could muster. He wasn’t going to let the youngest distract him, not this time.

“…We need to get out there and find him before he finds us.”

“Donnie, you’re talking about going on a man-hunt for a guy with enough funding to run a secret research facility and a small army of mutant hunters with combative training and advanced weaponry, all without a single lead on where he might actually be. That’s a suicide mission!” Said Leo, his voice strained as though he were the one begging him to listen to reason, “We should just stay down here where it’s safe until things cool down topside.”

Donatello snorted and crossed his arms. “Yeah right, because that plan worked so well last time when we were trying to avoid the Shredder.”

Karai, having been silently watching their argument, straightened on the couch and fixed Donatello with narrowed eyes. “You know what? That’s exactly who you sound like right now, Shredder; Obsessed, angry and out for revenge. Keep doing what you’re doing Donatello, it worked out great for him!”

That was the final straw. Donnie jumped to his feet and spun around to face the Kunoichi. “It’s not revenge!” He snarled at her, “The man is a monster! He needs to be stopped!”

“Wow, where have I heard that before?” Karai laughed bitterly, “For someone who’s supposedly a genius, you’re not very original. Let me guess, next you’re going to say you’re doing this for the greater good, for all of us. Well guess what? I didn’t need anyone to kill anybody to protect me back then, and I don’t need it now either!”

Thirteen felt a growl rising in his throat, the temptation to verbally rip that stuck-up, self-righteous onna a new one was quickly becoming more than he could bear. His mouth opened, ready to lay into her-

“YAME!!”

Their father’s voice rang throughout the main room and out of instinct they all fell silent.

Master Splinter had been standing by the Dōjō entrance, and from his flattened ears and disappointed frown, it had been for some time. “Bickering amongst yourselves like children will accomplish nothing.”

Karai lowered her head immediately and stood, her hands clenched into fists, and wandered over to her lover Shinigami who’d appeared on the other side of the couch by Raph and the others.

Donatello however, planned to stand his ground.

Slowly he turned and met his father’s eyes; surely he would see reason.

“We need to act, Sensei. Grail has already declared war on all mutants, he won’t stop. The longer we sit around ignoring what’s happening topside the sooner they’ll-“

Splinter’s chest swelled with emotion, and in one swift motion his walking cane came down with a resounding crack that echoed off the concrete walls.

“Enough!” 

Donnie flinched, but it was more out of habit than fear. 

“But-“

“No! I will not hear any more of this. The only war that I see declared here, is the one you and your friends started when you chose to butcher those men and leave them in such a grotesque display with a message painted for the entire world to see! That alone is reason enough why you _all_ will remain down here!” 

Master Splinter’s face seemed to soften as he watched Donatello. 

“You think I do not understand.” He murmured, his voice shifting from authoritative to compassionate, “But I do. You fear for your family as much as you do for those topside who are hunted. But your anger has clouded your judgment; a ninja’s greatest strength lays the shadows; in secrecy, caution, and stealth. Charging forward into battle, leaping into the open to be attacked and leaving bodies is reckless and foolhardy.” 

He sighed softly, his dark brown eyes filling with sadness. 

“I fear you may be losing sight of your true self, my son.”

“N-no.” Said Donnie quickly, “It’s nothing like that! I’m still me. It’s the hunters and Grail, they’re all over the news just like now. Every single day there’s another capture and the media just brushes it off. We have to do something, Sensei, please!”

“No.” Said Splinter again, his voice firm yet gentle. “We will all remain down here where we are safe. There will be no venturing to the surface for any of you. We shall continue to remain vigilant below in the sewers and in our home. Now please, Donatello, my son.” He pleaded, “Do what you know is right. Look inside yourself and find the turtle you used to be. Put this vendetta to rest.” 

Donatello’s heart twisted and he looked down at the floor. There was no point in arguing. 

As he hung his head in defeat, he watched his family out of the corner of his eye. Leonardo was looking back at him with that sad and worried look he’d been wearing for the past few days. Raphael was still scowling at him, his head ever so slightly shaking. Casey kept one suspicious eye towards him while he whispered into April’s ear, the young red head watching him with concern. Shinigami looked guarded as she pulled a frustrated Karai against her, and Mikey…

Mikey had been trying so hard to be optimistic and playful this week, but now there was fear in his eyes as he watched him, fear that Donatello was responsible for. If Raph decided to have Chompy set him on fire, Donnie would let him. Shell, he deserved it.

“Here we are safe,” Continued Splinter softly, pleased that Donatello was offering no further protest, “So long as we have one another we will never need to fear.”

With those final words, Splinter effectively took the wind out of his proverbial sails and Donnie was now starting to feel incredibly self-conscious with everyone’s eyes still on him. Burning with shame, he was about to bundle back up in his blanket and scurry back up to Mikey’s room and hide there from his family, probably for the rest of his life, or at least until tomorrow, when movement caught his eye.

He’d just turned towards the entrance of their home when a loud bang shattered the silence and shook the very air, sending Donatello to his knees. 

He grabbed his ringing ears as smoke filled the room, another bang exploding as a second smoke grenade soared over the turnstiles.

His nose and throat burned as the smoke filled his lungs, his eyes watering and distorting his sight. Over the tinnitus he could hear his family gasping and choking on the smoke, and something else that made his heart stop…

“Targets identified: Go, go go!!”

Forcing his eyes open, Donatello counted dozens of men in combat gear, launching over the turnstiles, their faces hidden behind gasmasks with crackling taser poles in hand and others with guns that he recognized; they were for shooting out electrified nets and tranquilizers. 

Panic seized his heart and froze him in place. 

They’d been found.

“GOONGAL- _umf!_ ” Casey’s battle cry cut short as he was tackled to the ground and pinned there by a large man. April and Shini rushed to help him, but another hunter raised his gun and darted them both. They dropped like rocks to the ground- Karai screamed from somewhere around him, her coughing voice turning into an enraged hiss as she shifted into her snake form.

She lunged at the hunter, but an electrified net shot through the smoke and wrapped around her, sending her crashing against the concrete. She screeched and writhed as the electricity coursed through her coils, the hunters closing in on her, intent on tranquilizing her as well if the net failed to keep her subdued.

“Miwa!” Splinter shouted. A baton swished past his head but the old rat was far too quick. He evaded the electric pole with grace, bending and twisting out of the way of darts and a net as he rushed to his daughter’s side. 

With jabs of his fingers almost too fast to see, he expertly targeted the pressure points that would render each hunter motionless for hours. He took out one and then another, almost to his goal when a dart flew out of the smoke and struck straight into his neck.

Donatello watched in horror as his father fell. 

“No.” He breathed, and his fists clenched. 

His brothers were fighting around him somewhere in the chaos, he didn’t have a weapon, but that was alright. If his time in captivity had taught him anything, it was that _he_ was a weapon.

Brushing away the fear that had glued Donatello to the spot, Thirteen launched into the battle. This was his home, and his family; and no one was going to take that from him. 

He jumped one of the men with a net launcher and drove him to the ground, one arm wrapping around the human’s neck the other grabbing at his head. They struggled, but Thirteen was much stronger.

A satisfying crunch sounded as the man’s neck snapped in his hands and the body went limp. One of the dead hunter’s colleagues rushed forward with an electric baton raised to avenge him, but once again Thirteen was faster. 

He dodged the attack and brandished his claws. With a quick swipe he knocked the human’s mask free making them susceptible to the smoke. They coughed and gagged as the burning gas filled their lungs, leaving them vulnerable.

A spinning kick delivered to the man’s stomach sent him flying face first into the ground. As he landed Thirteen swiped the baton the hunter had dropped, pleased with himself, when he noticed his father, still laying limp along the floor with two more men hovering over him, attempting to bind him before he could regain consciousness.

Cowards!

He roared in rage, his hand clenching around the baton and sprinted across the floor. Another human attempted to intercept him but he smacked them away with the baton and leapt at the closer of the two humans who would dare prey upon his helpless father.

His vision blurred with rage as he drove the worthless scum to the ground and pinned him on his back. He growled, his lips pulled back in a vicious snarl and with every bit of strength he had he swung and stabbed the taser into the human’s chest and activated the electricity; he was going to shock the bastard into cardiac arrest.

It was Karai’s pained scream that snapped him from his victim.

Worried that his sister was now the focus of their attack, he looked up, and found her back in her human form. She was bleeding from her head and arm, cursing up a storm in Japanese as she struggled to stay standing, but a terrified Shinigami had her arm, attempting to keep her upright and drag her back away from…him?

He looked around and found April on her knees, sobbing uncontrollably as she clutched Casey’s lifeless body to her chest; his head hung limply to the side in an awkward angle, as if his neck had been snapped.

Splinter was still laying on the ground, unmoving, with Leonardo nearby on his knees, both hands grasping at his face as he tried to staunch the heavy flow of blood cascading from his eyes; his blue mask in ribbons on the floor.

Raphael was in worse shape, so pale he was almost white, clutching to his nearly severed arm that was still gushing red. 

The moment Donnie met his gaze his brother mustered up the strength to snarl “You fucking bastard! I knew we should’ve locked you up!” 

He attempted to stand, but fell back to his knees. 

“I’m going to kill you.” He panted, his emerald eyes locking on Donatello with pure malice, “I swear, I’m going to fucking kill you!”

“Wh-what?” Donnie stammered, his eyes frantically darting left and then right, searching... 

The humans were gone, they were nowhere to be seen, not even a trace of them, almost as if they’d been…a hallucination.

A shiver ran down his spine, every inch of him growing cold. Eyes wide he looked down, trembling, at the human he had pinned with a baton, only it wasn’t a baton, it was Leonardo’s katana still gripped firmly in his hand.

Its blade was buried unforgivingly in the heart of Michelangelo’s unmoving chest.

“No…no, no, no.” Shaking his head in disbelief Donnie released his hold and stumbled off his little brother, unable to stand, he kicked off with his feet to scramble backwards and away from the lifeless form.

“No, no no no-“ He continued his mantra until all that came out were horrified gasps. 

He stared at the blade sticking out of his dead brother, blood coating the metal. His breath came in ragged gasps as he began to hyperventilate, when he felt a cold hand grab onto his shoulder and five fingers dig into his muscle hard.

Looking up in shock, Donnie found himself face to face with the wild green eyes and flaming red hair of the devil himself. 

“I told you.” Grail whispered, his face cracking into a smug grin, “I said you’d be the one to cut into them, and I always keep my promises.”

One final hoarse “No” was all Donnie was able to muster before he closed his eyes and swayed off to the side- he could feel the room spinning beneath his knees.

“Now, now, don’t get queasy on me now.” The man purred, as he tried to hold the mutant turtle upright.

“There’s still so much to be done, and I’m ready to play~”

-Donnie's eyes snapped open with a gasp, his arms flying up to knock the human away.

“No!” He yelped, only to go still as he surveyed his surroundings.

It was dark, too dark for the living room, where was he? Why wasn’t he in the main room? Where did Grail go? Where was his family!?

Shaking uncontrollably, he twisted in the pepperoni stained “Aquarium-Man” bed sheets, recognizing the wooden ship helm headboard and the crinkled “Spud with 1000,000 Eyes” movie poster that indicated he was in Michelangelo’s room. The small TV had been left on, and from the look of things he and Mikey had both fallen asleep watching the news.

_‘Mikey!’_

Throwing off the covers, he franticly turned to his little brother, his heart pounding in his throat and eyes burning from restrained tears.

He patted Mikey down with shaking hands, inspecting him for any sign of injury. “Wake, up.” He begged, giving him a shake, and when he didn’t move he felt something hot and damp trailing down his cheeks.

“Please wake up!” He shook him harder, nearly lifting the limp form off the sheets in his effort. 

Finally Mikey’s eyes parted as he was shook awake, groggily fixing on Donatello. “Wha-?” He mumbled, but Donatello was still searching, skimming the lighter green body for any trace of blood with trembling hands.

“Well, aren’t you getting brave~” He heard Mikey giggle, still half asleep, “Are you trying to start some-...Donnie?”

Finally Donnie looked up, gasping in a shuddering breath. “I’m sorry!” He sobbed uncontrollably, tears pouring hot down his cheeks, “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to.”

Mikey bolted upright so fast it was alarming. Without a word he grabbed Donatello and pulled him into a hug. Donnie accepted it without question, clutching at his little brother and squeezing him hard.

He breathed in his familiar scent and buried his face into Michelangelo’s neck, right at the Carotid to feel his pulse and count the life giving beats, confirming they were actually there.

“I’m sorry.” He choked out, over and over as he rocked with Mikey in his arms, “I’m sorry!”

He nearly missed the sound of Mikey’s door swinging open.

“What’s going on?” Came Leo’s voice, and Donnie felt Mikey’s body move with the shake of his head.

He didn’t know, none of them did, and there was no way Donnie was about to tell them.

Refusing to let go, Donnie kept his face buried against Mikey’s pulse point as he felt the bed dip. Two forms crawled up beside him, one on either side as he continued to cry and shake uncontrollably.

“It’s alright.” He heard a rough voice whisper, “It’s ‘gonna be ok.”

_‘No, it isn’t.’_

“We’re right here.” Whispered another, as a cautious, but soothing hand gently patted at the back of his shell.

_‘Are you really? How can I be sure?’_

They stayed like that for some time, whispering comfort and remaining strong by his side, even well after the tears had stopped falling. His brothers refused to leave even though he wouldn’t tell them what had turned him into a blubbering, snot-covered mess in the middle of the night like some hatchling.

What would he even say to them? That he wasn’t sure what was real anymore? That he couldn’t even trust his own mind? How would they have reacted? Would they have even understood?

No, they wouldn’t have. His sanity was slowly being torn away down into depths they couldn’t possibly conceive.

…And it was that realization that spurred him. He needed to find his friends; if for anything, a few moments of understanding and a feeling of normalcy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll just place these tissues right here... *runs away*


	31. Ch. 31

_Day one-_

Donatello lay atop his straw nest watching the turtle that had been tossed into his cage with him. It was still where he had left it; lying in the middle of the floor, hiding in its shell. 

There was no way Donatello was going to eat the poor creature, he’d willingly starve first. Grail was demented if he thought that he’d just snap his fingers and see Donnie murder an innocent being; even if it meant being able to eat…  
He had just begun to wonder what the man could have possibly been hoping to accomplish when the turtle began to stir. Ever so slowly its head emerged, eyes fixed warily on Donatello. Its legs followed, and when Donatello didn’t make a move towards it, it began to shuffle around.

He watched it as it waddled, a rather large mound that marched across the concrete, always keeping Donnie within sight as it explored its new surroundings. It paused every now and then to turn a dark eye at something; a piece of hay, the wall, an uneven portion of the floor, or Donatello, before scuttling on its way.

Its shell scraped against the glass of their cage, its little webbed foot stretching up to paw curiously at the glass. It attempted to climb it, awkwardly flopping back to the ground as its bulk denied it grip against their prison.

It was rather intriguing to see the turtle make its investigations; inquisitively examining and feeling its way around the cage. Is that what he would’ve been like if they had never been mutated? 

Curious and eager to explore and quite possibly fascinated by everything around him? It would’ve been a new experience every day. He’d count lily pads, inspect shiny pebbles, dig through the mud of the lake floor for worms and anything interesting, watch humans fish from his favorite sunning spot…

He watched as the turtle gave up on its attempts to climb and began to wander about the rest of their cell.

No. He couldn’t get attached, there was barely enough food for him, let alone the two of them. He had to ignore it. It would only be a matter of time before the turtle starved to death and the cage was filled with the rotten stench of decay…Boy, wouldn’t that tick Grail off.

As he lay there, attempting to focus on anything other than his cellmate, he found himself unintentionally enjoying the little reptile’s presence. After being alone in the dark for so long, the simple scraping sounds of the small creature moving about the cage was oddly comforting. It was almost like he was home, with Chompy skittering about, but with less chance of something catching fire…

The scraping sounds stopped, and he found himself immediately searching for the turtle to find out why. 

It had paused before the puddle of Donatello’s vomit, its head cautiously stretching out to examine it. It was a bad idea, Donnie knew that, and very quickly the turtle realized its mistake. Sucking its head back into its shell the turtle scuttled backward in disgust and crawled away from the repulsive stench.

Suddenly feeling self-conscious, Donnie looked down at his plastron, still coated with a fine layer of puke. “Oh…” He groaned and sat up.

He probably stunk. No wonder the turtle hadn’t come over to inspect him just yet. Although did he really care that the turtle hadn’t inspected him?

Refusing to answer that question he grabbed a handful of hay and began to sop up the mess along his front. 

Shell, what he wouldn’t give for a real shower…

Once he was as clean as he could get himself, he tossed the sodden straw he’d used in the corner of his cell and then once more found himself looking for the turtle.

It was easy to spot, huddled against the wall, once more attempting to scale the thick glass. No doubt it thought the glass ended somewhere and that if it only climbed up it would find a lip, and ascend its way to sweet freedom.   
He admired its persistence. 

Its little webbed foot scratched against the wall as it pulled itself up, scrabbling and clawing until it managed to snag its foot in one of the air holes along the glass. Pleased with its success, it pulled, lifting itself up, only to slip and lose its grip, then clatter to the floor onto its back.

Its little legs flailed uselessly in the air, its dark eyes wide with alarm. Ending up on its carapace was obviously not its intention. 

Without a thought, Donnie rushed to its side and scooped it up. The moment he touched the hard shell, however, the turtle sucked itself back in.

Carefully he righted the creature and set it back on the ground, though unlike last time he didn’t move away from it. He watched it instead, taking in the faint outline of scutes in the dark and what appeared to be an old chip on the left side of its shell.

They sat there like that for what felt like forever, when the turtle finally decided to peer cautiously out at him. Its large eyes glanced curiously up at Donatello and fixed unmoving upon his face.

The silence stretched on, Donnie watching it and it watching him.

He shifted awkwardly. “So…” He muttered, clearing his throat, “What are you in for?”

_Day two…Or maybe still day one-_

Donatello sat on the cement, watching as the turtle circled him. It waddled with every step, but kept its eyes on Donatello, its little head bobbing slightly as it took the larger turtle in. It had been attempting to get a good look at him for quite some time, though it had only been recently that it had mustered up the courage to actually remain outside of its shell every time Donnie so much as moved.

“You still believe Grail?” He asked, and the turtle stopped, peering at him cautiously, “You think I’m going to eat you?”

He shifted a little to get a better look at the turtle and it sucked its head in some. 

“Don’t worry, I promise I won’t.” He said softly, repeating the words he’d said to the turtle so many times before.

Possibly reassured by his gentle tone, the turtle pulled its head back out and continued to peer at him.

“You know, we really should learn to get along if we’re going to starve to death together. It’s going to be an unpleasant experience for the two of us and cooperation will be necessary.”

As the turtle slowly blinked up at him, Donnie tilted his head, watching the little turtle as it seemed to ponder him. The silence stretched on, and Donatello found himself looking for noise of any kind.

Unable to stand the silence any longer, he cleared his throat. “Bathroom is over there.” He said, pointing at the far corner of the cage, “Grail used to hose me down once a week but he’s stopped. It’s a mind game, you’ll get used to those, they’re not really that bad after a while in all honesty. I mean, it’s pretty hard to top tricking someone into eating themselves, so I think we’ll be good for a while.”

The turtle blinked and its little head tilted as though actually considering his words.

“Water is given once a day around what I think is morning, I’m not sure though it could be the afternoon. I’ve gotten pretty good at stopping up the drain so we’ll be able to take our time drinking it. Don’t worry, I’ll lift you up so you can get some.”

He gestured to the straw nest, and as his hand waved the turtle flinched its head back into its shell. “I sleep over there.” Continued Donnie, “You’re more than welcome to join me but you’ll have to share.”

Just like before, the turtle poked its head back out and continued to watch him. 

Donnie watched him back, taking in the little creature’s features; its slightly pyramiding scutes, no doubt from an improperly balanced diet, its webbed feet with five toes on the front and four toes on its back legs, as expected for a non-mutated turtle, as well as its angular big-eyed face that gazed up in wonder at how Donatello could possibly be as large as he was.

“You’re roughly twelve inches in length so you have to be at least 7 years old. I wonder if you’re male or female?” Murmured Donnie after a moment, “It’s too dark in here to tell how bright your coloration is, but you appear to have longer nails, so I’m assuming you’re a male. Then again, I haven’t exactly seen too many non-mutated turtles in person to make a decent comparison.”

He tilted his head again and the turtle mimicked him. There was one other way to be sure, but…

Taking a deep breath, Donatello looked away and patted his knees with an uneasy hum. “Look.” He said awkwardly, “Try not to take this personally, but, uh…”

He reached out to the turtle, ignoring it as it withdrew into its shell.

“I’m very sorry about this.” He said as he lifted it from the ground and flipped it over. 

Realizing it was now airborne, the turtle huffed and withdrew, kicking wildly in an attempt to escape the massive turtle’s clutches. 

“I know, I know…” Donnie couldn’t help but murmur, guilt lancing through him as he traced his finger down to where he knew the turtle’s tail to be. He had no desire to grope the poor turtle, but he knew that a regular turtle’s tail was a perfect indication of gender once they’d reached sexual maturity at six inches in carapace length. 

Sure enough, he found the tail to be wide at the base and long, tapering down at the end, and then very quickly he let go. 

“Again, sorry.” He said as the turtle continued to flail and let out a hiss, its mouth gaping in an obvious warning. “I just needed to be sure.”

The little guy was barely on the ground when he kicked out of Donatello’s hands and marched off with angry stomps, well, more like angry ‘plapping’ sounds, of its little webbed feet as it stormed away.

Donatello would’ve felt a lot worse if the turtle’s wide gait hadn’t caused its shell to swish side to side as though sassily walking off with an indignant, and entirely imaginary, ‘harrumph’.

He chuckled, watching the little turtle, still huffing as it made its way to opposite side of the cage. 

Truly it wasn’t funny, and though his humor was involuntary, he still felt guilty for having intruded on the poor turtle’s privacy. He knew how much he hated having a stranger touch his tail, and it was probably no different for him…

“Would it help if I said I’m sorry again?” He asked, and the turtle let out a particularly loud hiss from its corner. 

That would be a ‘no’, then.

_Definitely day two, but quite possibly day three-_

The turtle was once more inspecting the wall, focusing his dark eye at one of the holes as though calculating if he could fit through it. He did this to every hole, meandering about the walls to inspect and search for an exit. If anything, Donnie could appreciate his thorough attention to detail. 

There was no way out, he’d tried to explain that already, but the turtle just wouldn’t listen. It was either starve to death or get eaten, neither of which were pleasant… But at least he had spirit. 

The turtle was also clever, showing that he could learn and pick up on patterns fairly quickly, such as when it was time to drink, sleep, or watch Donatello count the holes in the walls; there were two hundred and seventy-one, possibly two hundred and seventy-two as it appeared as though one part of the glass had an anomaly that caused a sliver of a hole to remain when flush against the concrete. Or two hundred and seventy-one point zero, zero, one if you wanted to be technical… 

He needed a name. Donnie couldn’t just go around calling him ‘turtle’ or ‘it’ until they died, that would be rude.

As Donnie lay on his carapace, watching the turtle once more examine the holes in the wall, searching for a way out, he began to deliberate on just what he could call the little guy.

“What about Botticelli?” He asked, “He was a painter from the early Italian Renaissance time period. It’s a name I’m sure my father would appreciate.”

The turtle ignored him, unimpressed with the name choice, and continued to study the holes.

Probably not much of an art lover.

“Ok, then what about Toshi? It means to be bright, alert and intelligent.”

Sure that the turtle would enjoy that one, he waited for a sign, though to his dismay, the turtle turned and marched away, without so much as acknowledging Donatello’s presence. Ouch…

Cold-blooded _and_ a cold shoulder. 

“Or not…” He sighed and rested his head against the floor. This was going to be harder than he thought; how did Michelangelo make it seem so easy?

Of course, if it were up to Mikey, he’d probably just call him something based on obvious traits, like ‘shell-back’, or else the poor thing would probably be stuck with some tortured pun for a name, like _‘the Turtlenator’_ or _‘Turtlecles’_ …

…Actually, something Greek might not be a bad idea.

“Hmm…” He hummed, and the turtle stopped at the opposite side of the wall. “What about Archimedes?” 

To his surprise, the little head turned, now watching him with interest. 

“Oh, really?” Asked Donnie, sitting up, “You like that one?”

Continuing to surprise him, the turtle turned the rest of his body around and began to waddle his way over to him.

“He was an ancient Greek mathematician from Syracuse, in Sicily.” Said Donnie, watching the turtle approach, “As well as a physicist, engineer, inventor, and astronomer. He was, and still is, considered one of the greatest of all time.”

The turtle stopped before him, his head tilting as he watched Donatello almost curiously.

“Do you like that name?” Donnie asked after a moment, “I think it suits you.”

With his neck stretched out and throat undulating, the turtle gave his silent agreement and Donatello’s cheeks practically cracked with his grin.

“Alright then! It’s settled, I’ll call you Archimedes.” 

Again Archimedes undulated his throat, lifting his head as high as it could go, his dark eyes gleaming with delight, almost as though he understood what it was Donatello was saying to him.

Anthropomorphizing the turtle probably wasn’t the smartest thing he could do, but honestly, if he continued to pass the time by counting air holes in the glass wall of his cell, he might as well forfeit his claim on sanity now.

“Come on.” He said happily, reaching out to scoop the little turtle up. “It’s almost time for water.”

Unlike the first time Donatello had picked the turtle up, it did not squirm or attempt to recede back into its shell. It remained still, allowing Donatello to lift him.

Archimedes didn’t move at all, in fact, he stayed in Donatello’s arms and allowed himself to be carried to the bowl carved into the wall. He had learned, quite quickly actually, after just one time;

At first, he’d flailed and gaped at Donatello like a mad turtle; Donnie didn’t blame him, not after he’d practically molested the poor guy. Yet the moment he touched the water and found the kibble bit that Donnie placed there, he relaxed and scarfed it down.

Now the pair simply waited, watching the water bowl as the time ticked on. It would be sometime around now-ish when the water came, he didn’t have it down to an exact time since time itself did not exist inside the cold dark of the quite room, but he did have a general feeling about it. It was hard to explain, perhaps a bit hard to understand as well, but he just…knew.

After a while, pipes behind the wall began to rattle, the sounds of water rushing through as ice cold liquid spurted from the little hole above the bowl.

The wad of straw he’d used to stop up the drain held as the water filled, creating an effective plug. He hoisted Archimedes up as he’d done before and held him there so he could get a good drink.

As he was lowered to the water, Archimedes bobbed his head in delight and gleefully sunk his head beneath the water. The turtle took in some long deep gulps, before Donnie reached beneath his straw nest and pulled out a few kibbles. 

“Here you go.” He said gently, placing two of the small pellets into the water. 

Archimedes immediately snapped the smaller of the two up, swallowing contentedly before he fished around for the second one.

Donnie watched as Archimedes dunked his head and sloshed about, enjoying the stream that flowed into the bowl. 

Silently they shared the water, savoring what was maybe a cup or two.

It was going to be long, it was going to be hard, and in the end starving would be painful, but as he watched his silent friend, he was grateful that he wouldn’t be alone.


	32. Ch. 32

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning- nerd stuff

Donatello sat on Michelangelo’s bed with his eyes closed, his heart thudding so hard he was sure it would smash through his plastron and land on the pizza-stained sheets.

“You ok?” 

“I’m _fine_.” He answered far too quickly. 

“Dude, you look anything _but_ fine…”

“I’m fine.” He said again, though it didn’t sound convincing, not even to him.

Around his wrists, still trembling in the air, and his ankles, dangling over the bed, were the wrappings they typically wore. It was Mikey’s idea of helping, of getting him comfortable with wearing belts and cloth against his skin again, but as far as Donatello was concerned it was torture.

It didn’t feel like cloth at all, it felt like restraints dragging him down to be pinned to an examination table, like cold gloved hands grabbing him, like chafing cuffs that ripped at his skin as he struggled to escape… Shell, he wanted to throw up.

“How about some music?”

Finally, Donnie opened his eyes, finding the orange banded turtle pushing over some empty pizza boxes to peer behind them. 

“I just need to find my headphones…” Getting down on his hands and knees he scooted about the floor, tossing trash and action figures out of the way in his search, “And my Walkman, seriously dude, I had it just the other day.”

“Maybe you should try cleaning your room.” Murmured Donnie guiltily, right as his little brother turned and shoved his upper half under the bed. 

If anything was a good distraction from the itching feel of fabric against his skin, THAT certainly was.

With his tail wriggling, Mikey’s rump swished as he battled the dust bunnies beneath his bed.

“Or…” Said Donnie slowly, his cheeks growing red as he found himself staring, “Maybe you should check more towards your headboard?”

Still under the bed, Mikey shuffled sideways.

Picking up his feet so Michelangelo could move past, he followed the twitching little tail and those two round cheeks as they traveled by.

“I don’t see them.” 

Mikey shifted, giving a much better view that winked with every twitch of his tail.

“No, I’m pretty sure I saw them there, keep looking.” Said Donnie, trying to sound encouraging as his cheeks burned.

Mikey’s ass swayed a little, and Donatello found he no longer felt guilty, but grateful knowing that Mikey would never find what he was looking for. 

“What are you doing?”

Donnie started and whipped around, finding Leonardo standing in the door frame.

“Nothing!” He yelped, and he felt it as Mikey jumped and knocked his head on the underside of the bedframe.

“Dude, ow!” Mikey groaned, retreating out from under the bed. Rubbing at his bumped cranium, he pouted up at their elder brother. “I can’t find my headphones or my Walkman.”

“Maybe you should try cleaning your room.” Said Leo, shrugging, “Honestly Mikey, it’s amazing you don’t lose stuff more often.”

Donnie nodded. “I was just saying the same thing.” Getting to his feet he cleared his throat and headed for the door. Leo moved aside, allowing Donatello to pass. “Why don’t you help him while I go get rid of…” He looked down at his hands and the cloth that still scratched with every movement, “This…”

Without waiting to see if Leo would agree or not, he turned and made a beeline for the bathroom.

“And you wonder why I won’t share your bed with you.” He heard Leo continue to scold, “It’s a miracle Donnie actually stays in this room with you.”

“Oh come on, Leo!” He could just hear Mikey whine, “I know where all my stuff is! The mushroom goblins must have taken it!”

Guilt lanced through Donatello as he made his way down the hall, listening to Mikey attempt to defend his room’s current state. In all fairness Mikey _did_ need the scolding, his bedroom was the epitome of disorganization and clutter, but the missing items weren’t exactly his fault…

He reached the bathroom and slipped inside, stripped the cloth from his wrists and ankles as fast as he could, then locked the door when he was sure he was alone. As an afterthought he turned the shower on, allowing the water to run as he made his way over to the toilet. He didn’t have to use it, well…at least not in the way it was normally used.

Climbing atop the porcelain lid he reached for one of the pipes sticking out of the tiled ceiling he’d put up a long time ago. Once he had it, he hoisted himself up, pushed aside one of the white foam boards, and latched onto yet another pipe. With all his strength he pulled himself up, swung his legs through the entrance and hooked them around a large steel beam that sat just on the other side.

He’d done this many times before, mostly to check on his escape route and be sure his brothers hadn’t found it, but recently he’d been pulling himself up into the ceiling for a different purpose; it was where he’d hidden the parts he needed.

Once settled on the beam, he found the pieces he’d collected stashed in an old broken pipe: Mikey’s TV remote and his Walkman, a 1981 penny, one of the bobby pins April had used to keep her hair tucked under that atrocity she claimed to be a hat, and now…

He straightened, reached into his mouth, and pulled from his throat the bundled up headphones that he’d stashed there. If there was one thing he could be grateful for after Grail’s torture sessions, it was his deadened gag reflex.

Giving it a quick once over, Donnie made sure it wasn’t damaged before he reached out and placed it up with the rest of his things. As it was now the wires would be useless, but over time the headphones would dry and become workable. 

He needed a few other things, but those would be easy to come by, perhaps not as easy to procure but that was a problem he’d deal with as he went.

With the headphones now safely tucked in the pipe, he glanced back down at the toilet through the hole he’d climbed through. Sometimes he wished he could hide up here forever just to keep away from disapproving eyes, maybe even get a little privacy…Heh, privacy-

_Archimedes stared up at him with his small dark eyes, waiting and watching every moment._

_It was…awkward._

_Donnie licked his parched lips and hummed, trying to ignore his new friend while he squatted over the crude thing those men called a toilet; but it wasn’t easy…he was pretty sure Archimedes wasn’t even blinking._

_“Ok,” He sighed, looking back at the turtle, “I-I just, I can’t.” He reached down and picked the smaller turtle up, turning him around to face the other way, “If you could just-“ But the moment he let go, Archimedes just scuttled back around, facing him._

_He tried again. “No, just, face that-“_

_But his ever faithful friend simply scuttled back, again, and again, and again, almost as though it were a game._

_“Oh come ON!” He groaned as Archimedes turned back to him once more. “Seriously?”_

_The turtle stretched his neck out and happily bobbed his head and undulated his throat as though to reply; yes, seriously._

Silently, Donatello dropped down from the ceiling; made sure his hole was closed up once again, and then made sure the bathroom looked like he’d actually used it.

He had to be careful; ninja stealth all the way or his brothers would discover what he was up to…

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Every day he’d bide his time, waiting for the right moment to collect what he still needed. It took a few days, but eventually, his opportunity came.

He was sitting in the living room beneath his blanket, watching as a pouting Michelangelo emptied stacks of pizza boxes from his room; a stern looking Leonardo carefully supervising to be sure the youngest cleaned it right. 

“Has anyone seen Chompy?” Called Raphael for the second time in the past fifteen minutes, his voice rising with panic. “He was in the kitchen, he was right there beside me and then…”

“Come on dude, chill.” Called Casey from the other side of the lair, “He can’t go far!”

“Casey’s right.” Chimed April, muffled, her call echoing from the kitchen, “I can sense him, he’s here, just relax, Raph, it’ll be ok. We’ll find him.”

Donnie could see Leo out of the corner of his eye, watching Raph search while Mikey made his eighth trip in decluttering his room of the city’s largest collection of pizza boxes.

“You need me to help?” Leo called, and a shadow shifted, just as Donnie hoped it would.

Karai stepped out from her lurking place, a yellow-eyed cat purring on her heels as she strode across the room. “He’s probably just in the Dojo, who knows, maybe the fire-farter is meditating with Father instead of trying to burn down the tree for once.” 

It was a momentary lapse in attention, circling around a perfect excuse and an even better alibi.

Clearing his throat, Donatello did his best to look sincere. “I’ll check around here.” He murmured, and Raph paused in his search by the moat. He looked up, rather surprised, but he nodded, grateful. 

“Yeah, thanks. I’m going to check my room again, maybe he wandered that way while we weren’t looking?”

“Or.” He heard Leo call with a light-hearted chuckle, “Mikey’s room ate him…”

Raphael however, did not look amused, whipping around with wide-eyed alarm, Raph sprinted over to the pile of pizza boxes and began to dig through them in a frantic pace. 

“There’s pizza in there that could kill him!” He yelped, and Leonardo’s guard dropped.

Donnie stood as everyone searched, still cloaked in his protective blanket, pretending to look around the cushions, moving closer towards his target. 

“Mikey, what is that!?” He heard Raph shout. “Is that a _mushroom_?!”

“I think so? I found it growing under my bed.”

“What!? What if Chompy ate one!!?? He could be dead somewhere!!”

Leo began to comfort their brother with soft muffled words Donatello couldn’t quite make out. He felt bad for how upset Raphael was getting, but at the same time, he felt grateful for the continued distraction.

He reached the Pinball machine unnoticed and got down on his knees. As far as they’d be able to see he was just searching for Chompy, nothing out of the ordinary…

Quickly he unplugged the game and measured the amount of cordage he needed, brought it to his mouth and began to chew through it. He certainly wasn’t doing his teeth any favors, and it took a second longer than he had hoped it would, but with a few swift chomps he managed to bite through the wires and plastic.

“Perfect.” He whispered under his breath, then quickly wrapped it up into a tight ball. 

Everyone was still distracted, the sounds of Raphael now flinging things out of Michelangelo’s room while Mikey pleaded for him to see reason, drowning everything else out.

Once the power cord was wrapped in tight knot he popped it in his mouth, ignoring the bitter tang of dirt and grime that had been caked on it, and let it slip into his throat. Of course it wasn’t the ideal place to hide his stolen parts, not to mention extremely un-hygienic; if he had pockets that’s exactly where it would have gone, but given the situation and need for secrecy, it was the only place he had where he knew his brothers wouldn’t check.

He was just about to crawl back out from under the game, when a high pitch trill made him pause. He glanced up, curious, and found a greasy hole cut into the underside of the game’s cabinet.

The chirping of a happy alien chelonian sounded again, and Donnie cocked an eyeridge. “Chompy?” He called hesitantly, and the trill sounded again. _‘Oh boy…’_

But…But! Maybe this was yet another opportunity~

He tilted his head back, undulating his throat slowly to make more room. Talking was risky; if he wasn’t careful he risked swallowing his latest acquisition, or worse- having it puncture his esophagus and lodging in place. But he might not get another chance at this for a while, he couldn’t pass it up.

“Hey, Raph!” Donnie called, his tone uneasy for more than one reason, “You’re going to need to grab the first aid kit. I think I found Chompy.”

“WHAT??!!” 

The panicked shrill of his brother’s voice was enough to send his heart plummeting. Shell, he owed them all big time once this was over…

“It looks like he crawled up into the Pinball machine.” 

“What?! No!!” An equally shrill yell sounded from across the lair and in moments Donnie felt the thundering of feet as his brothers stormed across the common area towards him. 

“No, no, no!” He heard Leo stammer, “Not my vintage Captain Ryan Space Heroes Pinball machine!! Please no!”

Still under the body table in question, Donnie nodded from where he was. He could just make out the tip of Chompy’s tail wagging a mile a minute within the hole, but what he couldn’t figure out was how the heck he’d gotten up in there in the first place… Or _why_ , for that matter.

“Sorry, Leo.” Murmured Donnie, and he truly meant it. 

Reaching up into the hole, Donatello latched onto a tiny foot and prayed that he wouldn’t get bit or burned. 

“Come here, Chompy.” He called softly, “You don’t belong up there.”

Chompy struggled only a little but allowed himself to be pulled from the inner workings of the machine. He turned and chirped up at Donnie, his tongue lolling and eyes wide with a greasy film covering his face; smelling almost like…pizza?

“I got the first aid kit!” Panted Raphael, sliding to a halt beside the game. “Is he ok?! Where is he?!”

“He’s covered in grease.” Said Donnie, flipping the small turtle over to examine him further.

“Wh-why?” He heard Leonardo ask, and then seconds later his oldest brother let out a pitiful gasp. “He ate the power cord!!”

“Aw, man, you mean I greased it up for nothing?” Moaned Mikey, and Donnie swore he felt Leo tense from beside him.

‘What?!” Snapped the eldest.

“Well, you said it needed to be greased?”

“What did you use?!”

“Pizza grease. What else?”

Silence fell, and Donnie glanced over to Leo and Mikey’s feet. Leonardo was rigid, Mikey hesitantly stepping back. 

“You put pizza grease in my Pinball game?!”

And just like that, the pair sprinted, Leo darting after Mikey across the room.

After a loud crash and the sounds of a tussle leading into a distinct ‘thud’, followed by what sounded like Leonardo making threats of endless hours of meditation and punishing katas, came the undeniable screams from Mikey for mercy from the Hammer-lock shoulder hold Leo most likely had him in.

Apparently the elevated status in their relationship from brothers to lovers didn’t come with any free passes.

Ignoring the ruckus of their siblings, Raphael squatted down beside Donnie and Chompy with the first aid kit tightly in his hands, his eyes wide with worry. 

“Is he going to be ok?” There was a slight tremor to Raph’s voice that did not go unnoticed.

Feeling lower than sewer scum by the second, Donnie pulled himself out from under the game, still clutching Chompy. The little tortoise wiggled, but it was with pleasure, his legs swishing as he was carried through the air. He trilled again, and as Donnie sat up he found himself automatically pulling the alien to his plastron, a mistake he deeply regretted, for as he looked down all he could see was-

_Something bumped into his arm, pulling him from sleep. His stomach ached as he opened his eyes, groggily searching for whatever it was that had ‘thunked’ into him. He found it immediately._

_It was Archimedes; rocking back on his hind legs with his head safely tucked into his shell and ready for another assault. With all his might, the turtle thrust his entire body forward to knock again into Donatello’s arm._

_“What?” Groaned Donnie, “What do you want? I was sleeping.”_

_Archimedes huffed and rocked back again, then slammed as hard as he could into Donnie’s arm once more. That’s when Donatello realized what the problem was._

_He’d fallen asleep on his side instead of his stomach._

_“Oh, for the love of-FINE!” Donnie grumbled and he rolled onto his plastron. “There. Happy now?”_

_His answer was given to him in the form of a webbed foot with long clawed toes that grabbed onto his shoulder as the smaller turtle pulled himself up, then climbed his way up onto Donatello’s carapace; his preferred sleeping place._

_It took the turtle a moment to settle, but eventually, he found his spot in the very center and laid still._

_Letting out a huff at the fussy turtle’s antics, Donnie closed his eyes again in an attempt to reclaim his sleep that had been so rudely interrupted. “You’re lucky you’re cute.”_

Donatello sighed and pushed the memory away. These memories were why he hated being near Chompy, and much preferred the times when Raphael had him hidden away in his room instead of out and wandering like he was now. 

“Let me see the kit.” Murmured Donnie as he sat up, and Raphael all too eagerly gave it to him; concern for the wellbeing of his precious pet far outweighing any suspicions. 

Risking being noticed, Donatello swiped the tweezers as he withdrew the stethoscope, and tucked them into the folds of his blanket. 

He checked every inch of the baby tortoise, making a show of poking and prodding here and there, at one point even prying open Chompy’s beak to inspect his mouth before ducking to the side to avoid a tiny belch of fire gas; all with Raphael fussing beside him the entire time.

“He should be fine.” Donnie promised, over and over as a worried Raphael doted over his pet. “Just make sure he’s eating and drinking and, well, using the little turtle’s room regularly. Any change, let me know immediately.”

Raphael sighed in relief, gladly reaching for his little friend. “Aw man, Donnie, thanks. You’re sure the wire won’t hurt him? I mean, I know he’s an alien and we don’t know much about them, but-“

“He farts _fire_ , Raph.” Said Donnie bluntly, “The chances of bowel perforation or a blockage with stomach acid that can create something combustible upon entry into our world is very unlikely. Plus, the only food sources on his planet were volcanic rock, molten lava and maybe other species capable of living on the planet, so if he can digest _that_ then one would hope a bit of metal and plastic won’t be a problem for him. Like I said though, if there’s any change, tell me immediately.”

Setting the stethoscope down, Donatello rose to his feet, letting his blanket pool to his feet on the floor and hiding the tweezers in a light fist that he casually rested against his thigh. “Right now, what he needs is some R & R.” He said, smiling up at his worried brother, now nuzzling the tiny tortoise, “As for me, I’m covered in pizza grease. I’m taking a shower.”

Raphael’s green eyes snapped up onto him, and for a moment Donnie felt the color drain from his face. 

“Another one?” His brother questioned, “What is it with you and the shower?”

He didn’t sound upset or judgmental if anything he sounded almost light-hearted and curious, yet still, Donnie stiffened. “It’s nothing.” He said defensively, turning away, “I’ll see you in a bit.”

Without looking back, he turned for his safe place and marched across the lair, trying to ignore the icy cold that clung to his skin with every step.

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Donatello sat on the couch, swaddled in his blanket once more. He felt calm for once, quite content and happy to sit there watching the news. It was probably because April and Casey hadn’t made it to the lair today, and the shifty snake had a date with the witch so she wasn’t looming about like she typically did. 

It was nice for once, and even better, Raphael wasn’t watching his every move either, in fact, the only thing he was fixated on at the moment was Chompy. 

Perhaps his big brother was feeling the calm in the room as well, for he was laid back in his beanbag chair, smiling down at Chompy while he stroked his shell, following the different grooves with his fingers and finding every nick and-

_Donatello smiled down at his little friend as he ran his fingers along his carapace, finding scratches and nicks and even a chip from all the years of a tough life._

_"You know, if you're going to get a chip in your shell, a marginal scute is a lucky place.” Said Donnie softly, “My brother has a chip, right on his Epiplastron. It's never fractured any farther, but the skin around it is still sensitive.”_

_Archimedes lazily lifted his head and peered at him, his head tilting some as though curious._

_“I'm not kidding,” Donnie continued, “Whenever I'm able to convince him to let me give him a physical, if I so much as touch that area with the stethoscope he punches me hard enough in the shoulder that I feel it for a week!_

_In fact, I remember back when we were twelve, I was going through a painful growth spurt, I towered over my brothers but the extra height threw off my coordination. I was in the middle of a sparring match when I tripped over my own feet and accidentally landed my first real blow on my brother- the tip of my Bō smack dab on the crack on his chest._

_That is the only time I have ever heard him 'squeak'..._

_That was also technically the only time I ever beat him. He was so pissed that later that day he snapped my staff in half and sat on me for two hours straight until Sensei finally dragged him off. I think he was trying to prove he was still the 'bigger, badder turtle' by using his weight to push me around._

_...Come to think of it, he STILL does that. I haven't decided if it's because he suffers from deeply rooted insecurities concerning his diminutive height, or if it's because he just likes being a jerk.”_

_His little friend huffed and lowered his head, inspecting Donnie’s plastron as though his tales of his brother were less than impressive._

_“Oh sure, it might not seem like a big deal to you-you're only a couple pounds. But my brother is five feet and one hundred and ninety pounds of solid muscle and shell._

_It's ironic; that one little trip-up motivated our father to spend extra time teaching Raph how to overcome opponents with the advantage of height or a long range weapon, probably so he wouldn't develop an inferiority complex, but I think it only enabled him. Did you know he actually came up with this 'game' called 'the Donnie puppet'..."_

_He paused at his own story, his cheeks quickly flaming red in embarrassment._

_"You know what? On second thought you probably don't want to hear about that."_

_He cleared his throat and looked away, focusing on the pitch black corner of his cage._

_"...Talking about him like this, probably doesn't paint the most flattering picture of my brother, huh?” He murmured._

_“But you know he's not all that bad, he just has difficulties expressing himself in a way that doesn't involve hitting something. But, he really does care, and he shows it in his own, unique way... Sort of... Sometimes... Look, it's just one of those situations that you have to experience to fully understand."_

_Shell, he missed his brothers…He sighed and closed his eyes, hugging his little friend to his plastron._

_"If it meant I'd be home,” He whispered, “I'd let him sit on me every day without a single complaint..."_

_He sat in silence, thinking of his big, strong brother pinning him down…when his eyes snapped open and his cheeks flushed with the realization of what he’d just said aloud._

_"That’s not, I mean…that sounded a lot less weird in my head, I swear! I’m not, I mean, not really…"_

_Donatello groaned and thunked his head against the wall, the reality of his ramblings setting in._

_"Oh, sweet mother of mutation, what is wrong with me? I'm pleading 'no homo' to a turtle-"_

_He felt Archimedes stir within his hands, and peered back to find the turtle practically glaring at him._

_"No offense."_

He was really starting to hate Chompy…

A dreary sigh pulled Donatello’s attention from the panting alien in Raphael’s arms up onto their eldest brother. He was standing beside the Pinball machine, gazing down at it as though he were mourning the loss of a loved one.

As he watched, Michelangelo shuffled out of the kitchen with his head bowed, a bowl of what looked to be popcorn clutched in his hands. 

Like a puppy that’s been scolded, he slowly inched over to Leonardo. “I said I was sorry.” He pouted, before tentatively presenting his peace-offering. “And I made you some popcorn.” 

“It’s ok, Mikey.” Leo sighed, though he sounded anything but, “You were trying to help. I just wish Chompy hadn’t chewed it up so badly…”

Raph scoffed from his beanbag. “Come on Leo, how long are you ‘gonna cry over that thing?”

“I’m not crying!” Leonardo snapped at him, “I’m just-it was a classic! And now it’s dead. I’m allowed to be upset!”

Michelangelo’s pout grew bigger as Leo looked forlornly down at his game again. “Hey, you said we might be able to fix it!” Said Mikey accusingly but all Leonardo did was give a halfhearted chuckle. If he had said it, he obviously hadn’t meant it. 

Refusing to give up that easily, Mikey spun to face Donnie, his eyes as wide as saucers in a sad, imploring, and oddly endearing look that would otherwise only be physically possible in an anime. “Come on Donnie, you can fix it, right? You can fix anything!”

Perking up at the thought, Leonardo spun to face him, both hands clutching the side rails of the playfield as he looked over at him hopefully.

Donatello had to admit that Leo actually looked kind of cute like that~

“I suppose I could, but we’d need to find the right wiring in the proper gauge for-“

Mikey’s pout vanished and was replaced by a smile on his face a mile wide. “I know where there’s an extension cord!”

“What? No.” Continued Donnie, ignoring the fact that he’d been interrupted, “That’s too thick. It has to be a specific gauge that-“

This time it was Leonardo who interrupted, suddenly looking just as excited as Michelangelo, “So you’re saying there’s hope? How long do you think it’ll take for you to trim it down to the right gauge?” 

Donatello groaned and smacked his forehead into his palm. What was the point of talking again? Oh yeah, that’s right there wasn’t one, especially when no one was going to understand or even try to listen-

_"... And they call them Go-Karts! Can you believe that?! They have no idea how insulting that is- Go-Karts have zero suspension, understand? You take one of those things off perfectly smooth pavement and you are DONE._

_And the engines, most have like, a six-point-five hp MAX. Do you have any idea what kind of torque that is? That is a lawnmower. That is a joke. My Patrol Buggies are equipped eight hundred cc's of power needed to haul the extra weight of our shells at top speeds, and the full body suspension to go off-road, over sidewalks, curbs, even take sharp turns during high-speed chases without rolling over!_

_That's what they don't get; a Go-Kart is a child's toy, a Buggy is an All-Terrain-Vehicle designed to handle heavy loads._

_Those things aren't weekend builds, either! And which of my brothers do you think helped me carry any of those parts home from the scrapyard? I'll give you three guesses; No, no, and not a chance!"_

_Donatello let out an exasperated sigh and crossed his arms. "Go-Karts my SHELL, can you believe that?! The nerve!" He looked down at his friend, sitting in his lap with his dark eyes focused up on him._

_"...Sorry, I guess I kinda went on a tangent there, huh?"_

_Archimedes took in a sharp breath and huffed in reply before raising his head and undulating his throat._

_Donnie couldn’t help but chuckle, and reached out to gently rub his little friend’s outstretched neck._

_"Thanks, I knew you'd understand." He murmured._

_As he sat there his stomach twisted and let out a painful growl. Clutching it, he sighed._

_"You know…” He murmured after a minute, and Archimedes tilted his head, “I actually have a few ideas about how I could upgrade the gear shifts... Seeing as how neither of us have anything better to do, any chance I could run them by you?"_

_The turtle huffed again, a pleasant agreement, and scooted closer to snuggle into Donatello’s plastron._

_That was definitely a yes._

“You know…” Murmured Donnie, peering out from between his fingers, “One of these days, you guys are actually going to _listen_ to me when I talk.”

“Come on, already!” Groaned Raph, thunking his head back into his beanbag with an exasperated sigh, “Instead of worrying over a game we can’t play, just pick another one. It’s not like we don’t have a hundred of ‘em laying around here. We’ll worry about trimming gauges or whatever later.”

Donatello bit back a retort as Michelangelo let out an excited gasp. 

“Hey, yeah!” He cried, “We haven’t shown Donnie the super awesome _‘Karaoke Rebellion’_ game that April got us last Christmas!”

Michelangelo hadn’t even finished his sentence when Raph and Leo let out twin groans of disapproval. 

“Sorry I said anything.” Donnie heard Raph mumble as Mikey sprinted for the TV.

The youngest looked like a kid on that aforementioned holiday as he dug through his games and pulled from the pile the box he’d been searching for. “Here it is!” He said proudly, holding it up high for them all to see. 

“It’s great! Come on D, you can play it with…“ He opened the box and trailed off, searching its insides. “Wait, where’s the microphone?”

“Oh thank shell.” Breathed Raph as Leo walked over to them on the couch.

“No, hold on, I know it was here!” Said Mikey as he spun back to the games. “I know where everything is!”

Once again he began to dig through the pile, tossing games left and right in his search.

“Sure Mikey.” Said Raph dully, “Just like you know where your remote is, along with your headphones and Walkman, and-“

“What he _means_ ,” Interrupted Leo, giving the red banded turtle a stern glare, “Is that you need to start taking better care of your things, Mikey. Everything is a mess and you’re always losing stuff.”

“No I’m not!” Pouted Mikey, his lip giving a pathetic quiver as he turned to look at the three of them, “Its only recently! Why do you guys gotta pick on me?!”

Donatello winced at the sight and under the safety of his blanket he scratched nervously at his inner thigh; this had started out as such a pleasant evening, he didn’t want it to go south so soon.

“How about another game? Or a movie?” He asked before an argument could break out, but all Mikey did was cross his arms and flop down on the floor.

“I didn’t lose it.” He mumbled, and Leonardo seemed to soften. 

“Aw come on Mikey, here, let me help you look for it.” He walked over to the pile of games and shifted through some of them. “Donnie’s right; if we can’t find it today then we’ll just watch a movie instead.”

“Anything’d be better than watching Mikey try karaoke again.” Raph muttered from his chair, unable to be bothered from his fussing over Chompy to get up and join the search.

For a moment Leonardo practically glowed, his face cracking into the dorkiest, most adorable fanboy smile ever.

“We could watch _‘Spaceheroes: The Search For Dr. Mindstrong’_!”

“Anything but _that_!” Groaned Raph, sinking deeper into his chair, “Please, I can only handle so much of that show at a time.”

Leo frowned. “You can help look too, you know…” 

Raph let out a grumble but began to pull himself to his feet. Careful not to draw attention, Donnie did the same. 

“Well, while you guys look for it, I’m going to the turtle’s room.” He said as he lifted a covered arm and turned his head to cover his cough before he dropped his blanket and turned for the bathroom.

 

“While you’re up, you should get some water for that cough.” Leo commented, concerned yet still focused on helping Michelangelo sort through the piles of games strewn out across the pit.

Donatello raised a thumb in the affirmative to acknowledge his brother but didn’t risk turning around to see if it was noticed.

As he hoped, no one so much as cast him a sideways glance as he walked away, yet even though it was what he wanted, he felt a sting of bitterness run through him as he reached the bathroom and locked the door behind him. 

He pulled the microphone from his throat and examined it. 

“Christmas, huh? Good to see they were able to celebrate the holidays…” Flipping the little microphone over, he felt the vitriol churn inside him once more. “When they should’ve been looking for me…”

No…he should be happy they were able to find joy, right? They did find him. Getting upset about something so trivial after the fact was shallow and petty-

_“I have a friend who has a house in the countryside, there’s a pond near there…” Said Donnie softly, every inch of him aching as his stomach clenched and begged for food. “You’d like it-“_

_He trailed off as Archimedes, the turtle beside him on the straw, turned his head away and closed his eyes, refusing to look at him._

_“Oh, don’t be like that. Listen,” Donatello rolled over to properly face his little friend,_

_“It’s not you, it’s me, or more specifically my family. Every time we have a pet, it ends up mutated, and let’s just say that the last pet turtle didn’t come out so nice at first. Trust me; you’re better off living at a nice, quiet pond than with me. Now, I know this-” He stopped to gesture to himself,_

_“-may seem like the pinnacle of chelonian evolution, but it’s actually quite stressful-hey!”_

_He dove after Archimedes as the little turtle turned and shoved his head under the straw where the rations of kibble had been stored and snatched him up._

_“Are you trying to choke yourself?!” He scolded, lifting the turtle to face him, “We’ve talked about this; you can’t have it without water. You don’t produce the saliva necessary to swallow!”_

_The dark eyes stared up at him unblinkingly, and Donnie couldn’t help but sigh._

_“Fine.” He groaned, “I’ll make you deal, ok? You behave yourself, and when my brothers come, I’ll let you stay with me. I’ll build you a tank that stretches all throughout the lair. How’s that?”_

_The turtle in his hands stretched his neck out and bobbed his head happily. It was a yes!_

_Or, at least that was how Donatello was going to interpret it, anyway._

_Pleased, Donatello smiled and placed his friend back down on the straw. “Good. Do you prefer Drift wood or rock for basking? No-no, you know what, never mind. I’ll surprise you. The hardest part is going to be finding enough clear acrylic to weld together…” He thought for a moment, eyeing his friend before cocking an eyeridge, an interesting thought occurring to him._

_“You know, on the off chance you do get mutated, I’m getting you a tool belt. As much as I love my brothers, they are useless when it comes to repairing things. It’d be nice to have a little extra help. Plus, I bet you wouldn’t find wire-splicing boring, now would you?”_

_The turtle waddled forward and raised its little foot, clawing at Donatello’s leg for a moment before grabbing hold and hoisting itself up. He waddled up onto Donatello’s thigh where he rested, stretching his legs out with his head bending back in order to focus on the larger turtle._

_Donnie couldn’t help but smile as he reached out and scratched the underside of his friend’s leathery neck._

_“Then again.” He murmured softly, “I like you just the way you are. Though I gotta say, you’re making a mistake turning down the farmhouse. Sure, it could use a few upgrades, but the lack of light pollution makes stargazing just breathtaking.”_

_A painful growl twisted up from his stomach and he instinctively bent forwards as if the motion and added pressure would negate the feeling of his stomach collapsing in on itself. Archimedes tilted his head, watching him, the sudden movement no doubt grasping his attention._

_“You know.” Said Donnie, attempting to distract himself from the hollow ache in his abdomen,_

_“There’s a story my father used to tell, about a princess and a cow-herder who were in love but separated by the celestial river, except for one day out of the year when Magpies would form a bridge so the two could meet. That’s why we celebrate something called Tanabata._

_Magpies have nothing to do with it of course; it’s just that on the seventh day of the seventh month of the lunar-solar calendar when the constellations surrounding the Milky Way appear brightest, the celestial ford asterism, made up of Deneb and Cygnus, looks like it cuts through. But of course, Altair and Vega are fixed constellations so they never actually move._

_I never did understand how people ever got the idea that the stars cross the ‘bridge’ to meet. I tried explaining this to Sensei and asked if he knew more details about the astronomical origins of the mythology, but he said I missing the point…”_

_He paused, looking up at the pitch black of the ceiling, trying to remember what the stars looked like._

_“I wonder what the date is right now? Even if the story is painfully implausible, I’ve never not celebrated it…Do you think there’s a chance we haven’t missed it?”_

_He sighed sadly, feeling the tiny claws dig into his thigh as Archimedes slipped down from his leg to the floor. “It doesn’t matter, it’s not like I have anything to write wishes on…or with...Shell, I wish the guys would hurry up and find me…”_

_A small rustling sound snapped him from thought and he dove for his friend out of reflex._

_“And I wish YOU’D stop trying to choke yourself on dry kibble! Come on, how many times do we have to go over this?!”_

_He scooped the determined turtle from the straw once more. “You need a distraction.” He muttered, making sure to snag a handful of straw as he rose to his feet. Maybe some distance between them and the food would help._

_Once he was on the other side of the cage he set his friend down and made a circle with carefully placed straw pieces._

_“Ok,” He said as he plopped down on the cement. “I’m going to teach you how to calculate Pi. Now pay attention; first we need to determine the circumference-“_

_He stopped as Archimedes turned, his plastron scraping against the floor and dragging away some of the pieces of the circle._

_“Oh, come on.” He grumbled, picking up his friend and fixing the circle. “Look, I haven’t had an actual conversation with another person in shell only knows how long and I can feel my brain cells deteriorating about as fast as my stomach lining; humor me.”_

_He placed the turtle back and was pleased when he stayed, watching Donatello almost curiously._

_“That’s more I like it.” Donatello couldn’t help but smile. He knew the little guy was smart!_

_Just like he knew his own boredom and loneliness was making him anthropomorphize a common turtle to the point he was attempting to teach it geometry…But, he’d ignore that for now. His current state of sanity was a question best left for another day when Archimedes was up to playing the role of a therapist…_

With the microphone safely stored in the ceiling, he made his way back out to his brothers, finding Michelangelo still pouting but snuggled between Leonardo and Raphael on the couch.

“I’m telling you, _‘The Search For Dr. Mindstrong’_ is one of the best movies in the whole franchise! I don’t know why you can’t stand it, Raph.” Said Leo adamantly. 

“Because just like everything else related to that show, it’s lame and boring and meant for dorks like you.” Grunted Raph.

“Gee thanks…” Leo’s reply was laced with sarcasm and it prompted Raph to turn and grin at him like a Cheshire cat.

“What? Never said you weren’t a _cute_ dork. You’re so precious when you’re zoned out on that space junk. But right now, Chompy and I are in the mood for some _action_!”

“I’m not precious!” Snapped Leo, his cheeks burning red.

It was the first time Donnie had seen them act like a couple so openly in the lair; it felt almost…wrong to intrude, voyeuristic even. Feeling uneasy, he took a step back, ready to retreat, when he heard his name called.

He looked up, finding Leo with an arm outstretched, “Come on, Donnie! I know you’re not much for cuddling out in the open, but you can still join us.”

Donatello’s heart clenched, a mixture of feelings swamping him where he stood….Yet he smiled anyway, and slowly made his way towards them. “How about ‘ _The Final Star Fighter’_?” He asked, and Leonardo beamed at him. 

Even Mikey perked up as he crossed the room to them, grinning up at him, almost looking…Proud? 

Perhaps they thought he was growing more comfortable with them, opening up more maybe? It had been a while since he’d been so proactive in voicing his opinions concerning any group activities, so one could count this as progress, he supposed.

“Yeah, that sounds great!” Said Leo encouragingly. He looked over at Raphael as Donnie picked up his blanket and sat close by the trio. “You wanna pop it in, Raph?”

Raphael, however, remained where he was, watching Chompy as he panted on his lap. “Yeah,” He said slowly, casting a glance at Donatello before he stood, “Sure.”

\---------------------------------------------------

It was a little after midnight, and the whole lair was silent. Mikey was snoring beside him, snuggled up against Donatello like he always did. 

Carefully, Donnie unwound himself from the younger turtle’s arms and wriggled free, a mumbled “Mushroom goblins…Don’t take that, it’s mine…” The only sound drifting up from him as Donatello snuck out of bed.

No one noticed as he made his way to the bathroom, and no one stirred as he clicked the lock closed.

He had everything he needed now; there was no longer reason to put it off.

Retrieving his stash of pilfered items from the ceiling, he laid them out on the floor directly underneath the bathroom sink before rummaging through the plywood cabinet that served as a makeshift vanity for their mostly human female guests.

One positive thing about having Karai over so often was that her girlfriend left her personal hygiene and frivolous beauty products at the lair for their overnight visits.

Smirking with success, Donatello pulled out a pair of nail clippers and a hair-straightening iron; why anyone would want to put a device capable of reaching three hundred and eighty degrees Fahrenheit so close to their scalp was mind-boggling, but the mysteries of the barbaric beauty rituals of human females wasn’t high on his list of priorities at the moment.

Plugging the hair-straightening device in the outlet nearest to the sink to warm up, Donnie retrieved the penny, the bobby pin, and the tweezers before grabbing a sponge near the faucet and dampened it. 

Crouching down, he reached under the oval basin and eyed the out of date piping.

He’d be inconveniencing his family, there was bound to be a noticeable mess in the morning when one of his brothers attempted to brush their teeth, and as sure as he was that a leaky pipe here and there could be brushed off as just one of joys of sewer living, having to deal with his brothers urging him to fetch his tools to fix it was not something he looked forward to.

Wetting the bobby pin on the sponge, Donatello gripped it tightly in the clamp of the now fully heated hair-iron and used the tweezers to pick up the penny with his free hand.

He now had a makeshift soldering iron and de-soldering braid.

It took less than a minute for the heat of the iron to transfer to the tip of the carbon-steel based bobby pin and Donnie angled it carefully against the welded joints of the pipes, keeping contact between the tip and the old penny; being ninety five percent copper, the penny acted like a sponge and the solder from the welds naturally pooled in its direction and dripped on top of it until he had a fairly sizable glob of molten metal that he put aside to cool.

Giving the bobby pin a quick pat down with the sponge to prevent smoking, he sat it down as well and focused his attention on Mikey’s Walkman.

Donatello picked up the nail clippers and flipped out the attached nail file, using it as a flat head screwdriver he was able to pry loose the plastic casing of his brother’s beloved audio player and exposed its inner circuitry.

The Braksonyc Walkman wasn’t nearly as popular as its Sonee competitor; it still shared the basic qualities, a cassette player, and an AM/FM transistor radio, but it was superior in that it still had one feature that Sonee had phased out in its earlier models- a record option with a built-in microphone. In other words, sound input.

The built-in condenser mic was burnt out but Donatello had planned on removing it anyway, the microphone from Mikey’s Karaoke video game would allow him to adjust the volume of transmitted sound if needed as well as give him more flexibility.

Using the clippers, he carefully disconnected the old microphone, as well as the antenna and two of the resistors. 

Following suit, he pried open the TV remote, in the same manner, to expose the breadboard, before clipping various lengths out of the Pinball power cord, stripping away the plastic coverings near the ends, until finally, he clipped the microphone jack off of the end of Mikey’s toy.

Shell, he hoped that thing wasn’t too expensive.

Jury-rigged soldering iron in one hand and tweezer gripped penny in the other, Donatello was meticulous as he went about connecting each wire to its new destination, finding a meditative comfort in watching the melted alloy drip down onto the contact points, drawn to the heat like a moth to flame, or Michelangelo to pizza.

It was important to be quick if he was to avoid burning through the wires themselves or from damaging the solder.

The acid flux in plumbing solder was highly corrosive and not at all ideal for circuitry. If he was lucky, he would get one, maybe two uses out of it before the device completely burnt out. But since the only useable amount of rosin flux was located in the lab, a location he was determined to avoid at all costs, he would have to make do.

Placing his improvised tools aside, Donatello gave his creation a quick once-over; the microphone and the TV remote were now permanently affixed to the Walkman and a third strand of exposed wires hung free where they were attached to the ANT point. 

It was crude, it was ugly, and the odds of it not short-circuiting and literally blowing up in his face were sketchy at best.

Yet, looking down on the bits of junk and stolen electronics that he’d cobbled together, he couldn’t help but feel a small sense of accomplishment. It felt good to actually create something again… even if it did look like an improvised explosive device from a B-rated terrorist film.

Reaching under the plywood cabinet, Donatello retrieved his own discarded wrappings, which he carefully tore into strips. His brother really had been helping when he insisted on getting him used to the elastic cloth again, just not in the way he had intended.

After covering each exposed wire as best he could, he used the remainder of the cloth to wrap the Walkman itself in place of its plastic backing, being sure to leave the tiny plastic box inside labeled VFO fully exposed.

Plugging the headphones into the output port, he switched the device on quickly to ensure it still powered up before shutting it back down. He wished he had more time to do testing, but time, along with sufficient supplies and privacy was something he was severely lacking these days.

_‘Tonight, it has to be tonight. I’ve already waited too long.’_ Taking a calming breath, Donatello worked swiftly to return his makeshift tools to their original locations, save for the nail clippers. 

With them in hand, he climbed back into the ceiling and found the vent cover he’d used to hide his escape route. It was easy, and in moments he was dropping down into the abandoned tunnels on the other side.

Having been solely responsible for completely re-wiring and re-directing the piping of their home to make it both livable without being noticed on the city’s power-grid, Donatello knew the location of every wire, conduit, pipe, and flow valve within a two hundred yard radius of the lair by heart.

Pressing up against the wall, Donnie slunk to the old landline wires that at one point in time connected to payphones in the subway station where they lived. He had spliced into them before for his father’s Cheese phone. Using the nail clippers, he pinched the plastic of a fresh wire and peeled the protective coating away little by little until the copper beneath was exposed. 

He gave the area around him a quick glance to be sure he was alone before he held up his device and grabbed hold of the hanging strands of wires from where the antenna of Mikey’s Walkman used to be, clenched his eyes closed, and touched them to the wire.

A few seconds passed without electrocution and as far as Donnie was concerned that was a major success! 

Once he had the headphones in place, he whipped out the nail file and twisted it into one of the tiny screws on the frequency oscillator of the Walkman’s radio and turned it slowly; if he remembered correctly, the Braksonyc radios operated at a frequency of sixteen hundred kHz, he needed to get that down to between fourteen hundred and fourteen hundred and fifty... 

His heart jumped at the sound of a dial tone and as quick as he could he punched the numbers in that he’d committed to memory so many nights ago when they were quietly hissed to him and readied the microphone. It rang once, twice, before he made out the subtle click of someone picking up.

Donnie didn’t waste any time; “Meshihkêha Romeo Tango Mike.”

Silence hung between them for a heartbeat before a voice on the other end spoke in reply.

“Bravo Zulu. If you still like to Tango I can get you a date with Papa Echo at four thirty in November, you can show up no later than seven thirty-nine if you bring Whiskey. He’ll take you to a nice Hotel in Quebec.”

“I’ll be there.” The call abruptly ended as the butchered Walkman began to fizzle and smoke, tiny sparks flickered from the soldered connections that were being eaten away by the electric current. He pulled the headphones from his ears and disconnected just as the device let out a pop. He glanced at it rather proudly; despite lack of decent components, it had held up beautifully.

Clutching the still smoking remains of his makeshift phone, he slipped into full ninja mode and lightly raced down the tunnels. He tossed his creation in the first puddle he found, extinguishing the smoke, and navigated his way through the labyrinth of the Manhattan underground. 

Four thirty N and seven thirty-nine W… if he re-adjusted those numbers to GPS coordinates, then forty point thirty north and seventy point thirty-nine west should be the connection tunnel of the water reservoir that ran under Central Park. 

That’s where a mutant serving as his personal escort would be waiting for him.

Coming around a corner, Donatello skidded to a halt when his path was blocked by a vertical wall grate that closed off entry to the connecting tunnel.

Grates such as these were commonplace in the sewers; used to both seal off tunnels that were no longer in service or to act as a filter to catch larger debris that often found its way down there during the rainy weather. It wasn’t exactly an obstacle per say; it just required a little bit of elbow grease.

This particular grate seemed to have become rusted shut over time, and perhaps it was his recent lack of physical activity catching up to him, but Donatello found himself actually struggling to pry the barred gate open-

_The stench of their cage was unbearable. Between Archimedes poor toilet habits and the festering pile of Donatello’s vomit, he was actually beginning to miss the weekly bone chilling hose-downs that Grail used to subject him to-_

_The hose downs!_

_Donnie’s eyes snapped open and he weakly pulled himself from the straw of his nest. There was a drain in the floor, in the center of his cage at a slight incline specifically for the purpose of preventing flooding during his so-called ‘showers’._

_Donatello crawled on his hands and knees to the metal grate. He’d never given it much thought due to how small it was. There was no way he’d be able to fit through it, poking and pulling at it would have been a waste of energy, but that was before he’d met Archimedes... He may be trapped forever, but his friend…_

_When he reached the grated floor drain he measured it the best he could. From what he could guess, it was approximately fourteen inches long and wide…No, fourteen point three inches wide; there was a flaw in the metal. With a similar appearance to a subway grate with the widest slots running about eight inches down the middle…_

_His heart skipped a beat; this might just work!_

_‘Give me a lever long enough and a fulcrum on which to place it and I shall move the earth.’_

_He didn’t want to be alone in this hell hole, but if there was even a remote chance that Archimedes could escape, could live…_

_Licking his dry lips, he chuckled softly and looked over at his smaller turtle companion, once more counting the holes and examining the walls._

_“Hey, Archimedes.” He called, making his voice a low rumble that would grasp his friend’s attention, and sure enough, the turtle turned to look at him._

_“Are you ready for another lesson? I think you’ll appreciate this one since it came from your namesake.”_

_Most likely curious at the change in the larger turtle’s position in their shared prison, rather than the mention of the ancient mathematician he was named for, Archimedes tilted his head and slowly turned to make his way over to Donatello._

_Donnie sat back on his knees and scooted forward until he was over the grate._

_“So here’s an interesting fact; stainless steel industrial floor drains this size usually run about thirty pounds, and are held in place by four bolts, usually designed to withstand a minimum of one hundred pounds’ pressure- that means what we have here, is a load force of four hundred and thirty pounds.”_

_Positioning his rear-end ever so carefully, he lowered himself down until the bottom-most scutes on the rim of his carapace were lined up with the slot between the grate and concrete. He wedged them in as far as they’d go, grimacing as they scraped._

_“Let’s say from my coccyx to my shoulder is approximately twenty inches, that’s one point six feet.”_

_Shifting into the proper position, Donnie brought his feet in front of him, stretched out his legs and raised his knees into a thirty-five-degree angle to brace himself._

_“Now, the grate’s weight is focused on the center.” Grunted Donnie, his little friend coming slowly into view. “Which is seven inches in, that’s about forty percent of a foot.”_

_Reaching back, Donnie rested both hands on the floor, confident with the knowledge that the apex of a turtle’s shell was able to withstand thousands of pounds of pressure._

_“Are you ready for this?” He asked, “If we use where the concrete meets the grate as a fulcrum and my shell as a lever-“_

_…He just hoped that the brim was at least a quarter as durable._

_Taking a deep breath with eyes clenched closed, he tried to stay focused on the math, “If we multiply four hundred and thirty by zero point four, then divide that number by one point six…”_

_Donnie gritted his teeth as he leaned his weight backward. Making use of his awkwardly long legs, he pushed, wincing against the shooting pains emanating from his lower vertebrae._

_“That means…we only…need…one hundred and…seventy point five pounds…to pry…this baby…LOOSE!”_

There was a loud creak that echoed off the sewer walls, drowning out the groan of stubborn metal as Donatello finally managed to pry the wall grate open just enough for him to slip through. 

Carefully making his way into the older tunnel, he stuck close to the shadowed walls, eyes white and alert for danger. 

He was only a few yards away from his destination before something shifted at his right and he growled, raising his fists when he realized just who it was.

It was the feathery mutant that he’d met the night he’d been reunited with his friend, Nine; a half human half bird woman with avian feet, wings for arms and a human face and torso buried under an array of colorful feathers.

“Greetings.” She said softly, her feathered arms twitching to signal he was to follow, “Come, we shouldn’t linger.” 

“You’re alone?” He asked, a bit surprised that she’d be wandering about with all the hunter attacks he’d seen in the news, even underground they couldn’t count on it to be completely safe.

“Aren’t you?” She countered, her face twisting into a smile as she led him down a series of twists and turns before coming to yet another sealed off tunnel, this one haphazardly blocked with planks of wood with visible signs of water rot.

His personal escort was undeterred and pulled the wooden façade aside with ease, revealing a long and mold-ridden passage that at a glance, appeared much older than any of the sewer tunnels or abandoned subway tracks he and his brothers had ever explored before.

“Nine and Five were growing worried. They thought something had happened to you and wanted to try and track you down. I told them they were being dramatic.”

Thirteen couldn’t help but smile at the thought of his friends and a mixture of relief and eager anticipation filled him as he followed the feathered woman down the pitch black passageway that would lead them to the Mutant Rebellion Headquarters, completely unaware that they were being watched…


	33. Ch. 33

Water dripped from the pipes above, a gentle ‘plip plop’ sounding as it hit the cement along the sewer tunnels.

Voices could be heard, soft whispers as they drifted through the damp air.

Raphael remained where he was, crouched in the shadows out of sight; watching, waiting, listening…

The voices up ahead were still murmuring back and forth, the words unheard, but their need for secrecy quite clear. It was why Raphael kept rooted to the spot, as much as he wanted to march over there and bust up whatever it was, even he knew that’d be stupid if he wanted to discover their plan.

Shell, he hated reconnaissance.

Raph tensed as the voices hushed, and the faint echo of stealthy footfalls vanished down the tunnel. 

White-eyed, he hugged the wall and began to creep after his target, when something reached out from behind and jerked him backward.

Swinging around he aimed his Sai at his assailant, only to feel skilled hands twist his wrist and divert his attack almost flawlessly. His eyes met hers, and they remained at a standstill; the others were still too close to risk speaking.

It was Karai; she gestured for silence, and to show his contempt for her presence, Raph responded with a certain gesture of his own. He didn’t utter another word as he returned to listening for his targets, and it wasn’t until he was sure they were far enough away, that he dared make a sound.

“What are you doing here?”

“What are you doing here?” She countered. “I thought you were playing ‘good little turtle’ and hiding in Donatello’s lab.”

“I wasn’t hiding.” He muttered under his breath, “It was Leo’s idea.”

“Oh really?” She scoffed, “And how is pouting behind a steel door Leo’s idea, exactly? I was under the impression he was trying to convince you to come out of your hole, not stay locked up in it.”

Man he wished he didn’t need to be quiet! 

“I _wasn’t_ hiding!” He tried to explain, “It was starting to feel like Donnie didn’t want to get better, so Leo figured we could trick him into it.”

When all he got was a raised eyebrow in response he gritted his teeth and dragged his hand down his face. Why the hell hadn’t Leo explained this to her?

“Look, the whole _‘take them out before they take out us’_ thing just isn’t Donnie, alright? I squashed a spider once and he flipped out! The idea was if he thought I was worked up over something, then he’d have to get over his stupid fear of his own damn lab in order to come in and try to see if he could help, and once he realized that nothing in there was going to hurt him, he’d snap out of it and realize his so called _‘friends’_ are a bunch of murdering psychos.”

“But he didn’t.” Said Karai, “He’s been spending more time with Mikey. So how’s that-?”

“Mikey swiped his files.” Said Raph bluntly, and finally there was silence. It was about damn time.

Creeping around the corner, Raph spotted the shadows of his prey.

“So Donatello’s doing what; playing therapist?” 

So much for silence…

“He took the files back.” Raph answered quietly, “Gave them to Leo to put back in the lab. Donnie’s working on getting Mikey to open up, and Mikey’s trying to convince him to talk about what happened. I didn’t think it would actually work, but...”

He hesitated, his chest tightening at the memory of that first night when they brought Donatello home, his brother convulsing in the Shellraiser, mouth opening to let such an animalistic scream…

“Somehow, it’s like he’s helping himself by helping Mikey, shell knows they both need it…”

Karai hummed thoughtfully, but Raph refused to look at her; he was too focused on his targets.

“Having a pity party in the lab sounds _so_ helpful when you put things into perspective.” She snickered, “I’m sure he’s very appreciative.”

“Oh, and like you _stalking_ him all the time is helping?” He hissed at her.

The Kunoichi simply smirked, leaning in to whisper. “Isn’t that what _you’re_ doing like, _right_ now?”

Raphael bit his tongue. She was goading him, forcing him into an outburst, possibly even attempting to ruin his chances of following Donnie to that red-eyed prick… What the hell did Leo ever see in her?

“How’d he even figure out where to meet them anyway?” He heard her ask, and thankfully _that_ was a question he could answer without his temper flaring. Well…sorta…

Without bothering to look back, he reached into his belt and withdrew the still soaking wet gizmo that had helped aid in their genius brother’s escape and held it up for her to see. Silence greeted him as she no doubt stared at it with the same dumbstruck expression he’d had earlier that night when he’d found the damn…whatever it was.

It wasn’t until they slunk up against one of the sewer walls and peered around it in search of their targets that Karai spoke again.

“Well, at least we know where Michelangelo’s remote went.”

“And his Walkman, _and_ his headphones, _and_ the microphone from that stupid karaoke game, and I bet it really wasn’t Chompy who ate the cable to the pinball machine!” He huffed irritably; annoyed that he’d fallen for Donatello’s trick. Chompy wouldn’t have eaten the power-cord, he’d have melted it… “It’s a true Donnie-gadget, that’s for sure.” 

“So it’s a, what…Walkie-Talky?” 

“Not sure.” Said Raph honestly, tucking it back into his belt, “But it’s definitely how he got ahold of those freaks.” 

“And you knew to follow him and find it, how?” She asked, “Did someone break their promise about putting trackers on his brothers again?”

“Uuhggg.” He groaned and glowered at her. “How many times do I have to tell you guys that wasn’t me?! I don’t even know how those stupid things are supposed to even work!” Trying to ignore her smirk, he grumbled under his breath and slipped further down the tunnel, until he could just make out the flicker of vanishing green as his brother shifted some planks of rotting wood back into place to cover where he’d entered. 

“I knew he was up to something. Donnie starts hanging out in Mikey’s room and Mikey’s stuff goes missing, he’s in the bathroom all day, then he starts suggesting _‘family movie time’_ like he’s suddenly all better…” He murmured softly, “It was only a matter of time before he bolted. He was probably just biding his time before he snuck out through that stupid hole again…”

“Wait, what?!” She hissed.

He ignored her, choosing to slink away over to the rotten hunks of wood and rusted metal that had been nailed up to cover the entrance. Silently he shifted the same plank of wood that Donatello had moved, taking great care to be as quiet as possible and remain unnoticed. He slipped through, Karai right behind him.

“You told father that the hole had been sealed. That Donatello could no longer get out.” 

“I did.” He replied, a bit guiltily, “But the thing with Donnie is, if you close one door he just makes another one, and the next one might not be so easy to find. Besides, he’s already under house arrest- if we make him feel anymore trapped than he already is it’d just egg him on even more to get away from us, and as messed up as he is now, there’s no telling if he’d even come back.”

Karai said nothing as they walked down what looked like one of the oldest unused sewers he’d ever been in. There were moss and fungus, rusted pipes and rotting brick with bits of trash so old that plastic was disintegrating and metal cans crumpled in on themselves just by brushing past them. 

Yet there were tracks, disturbances in the dust and dried muck; recent ones from Donatello and his _‘friend’_ , as well as older ones that proved the sewer tunnels had been frequented well before now.

“Last I checked you were still waiting for him to mass murder us in our sleep. Sounds like Leo had a say in this.” She murmured, and Raph nodded. 

“It was his idea to keep the hole open, but my idea to let Donnie sneak out.”

“And Leonardo was okay with that?”

“Doesn’t even know about it yet, and from the look of things-” He cast her a knowing glance, “You didn’t bother to wake him or Sensei up to tell them he left either.”

This time Karai’s annoying smile wasn’t one of amusement, if anything she looked far too understanding.

“He wants revenge. I get it. After hearing some of what they did to him, I’m not surprised either. But because I understand it, I can relate to him a lot more than anyone else can. Dragging him back like Leo or father would, would only make him angrier towards us. Locking him up will only push him away and deepen his desire to see those men dead.”

Raph grunted in agreement. “Guess you _would_ be the expert on that, huh?” He asked, when Karai reached out and stopped him. She pulled him down another tunnel, and just in time too, for as they slipped into the shadows, two large mutants stomped past; one looked to be made of stone, the other a tangle of moss, mud and vines on two tree stumps for legs. No doubt some form of guards on the lookout for uninvited guests.

“This way.” Whispered Karai, “I have a feeling I know where Donatello’s heading, and if I’m right, this should get us in the same area.”

Allowing her to take the lead, Raphael followed down the abandoned sewer tunnel, careful to step within her tracks in case they were followed. With only one pair of tracks visible he’d be able to surprise them before they realized there was more than one intruder. 

“So.” He heard her whisper after a while. “You know why _I’m_ trailing after our little serial killer. Now why are you? Let me guess, it’s got something to do with a big, strong, kicked-your-ass, serpent boy-toy that he may or may not be running away to be with?”

“Fuck you.” He growled under his breath. The answer was yes, but he wasn’t about to tell her that! Shell he wanted to hit her, in fact, he might do just that later tonight as soon as stealth was off the table.  
“I’m here to make sure he doesn’t get hurt or do something he’ll regret. I bet you anything that the only reason Donnie is so hell-bent on murder is because that snake told him it was the only way to make it right. I already told you, killing isn’t Donnie’s thing…”

Karai came to a halt, looking up at a rusty old ladder, corroded and hanging haphazardly from the crumbling brick. “How do you know?” She asked, and Raph’s fists clenched. “You’ve seen his records right? You can’t expect someone to be ripped apart and put back together again without it changing them. It’s something father and I have been talking about. I’m sure even you-“

Letting out a growl, Raphael shouldered past her, “Are you just going to talk all night or are we gonna get going and actually find the Brainiac?”

If Karai said anything after that he didn’t hear her, or care, for he scaled the brick in two quick leaps up to the sewer grate above them.

Like always he listened for any sign of activity, felt for vibrations or any other trace of life, and when there was nothing, he began to work the rusted metal loose. 

Years of neglect kept the old grate from budging at first, but his strength, fueled by agitation and determination was enough to move the whole city if he wanted to. Sure enough the grate agreed; rust flaking down from its corners as he forced it from its long dormant resting place.

Leaves crunched as he slid the heavy metal aside just enough so he could fit through. Quick and silent he slipped into the dark, feeling grass under foot, and found trees surrounding him. They couldn’t be in Central Park, right? He was sure they left that area back at the rusted wall gate near the underground reservoir…

White-eyed and alert, he remained focused on what appeared to be a forest, the sounds of water and the faint smell of salt filled his senses as Karai slinked silently up from the sewers. 

“Thought so.” He heard Karai murmur, “We’re on an island in the East River. It’s deserted with a bunch of rundown buildings, a perfect place to hide.”

He slid the grate back into place, eyeing the dark for any hint of movement. “You know this, how?” He asked.

She didn’t give an answer, though she did gesture for him to follow. “This way.”

Grumbling under his breath Raphael turned and followed after her. Why couldn’t it have been Mikey or Casey who followed him? Heck he’d take Slash or even Mondo Gecko…

Ok, maybe not Mondo…

Stepping lightly behind her he never made a sound, blending in with shadows as the pair slipped through the dying brush towards a mass in the dark. As they drew closer, Raphael realized it was a building that poked between the trees; a rotten, ivy-covered one that looked like it should’ve collapsed in on itself years ago.

The closer they got, the more visible the dilapidation became; broken windows, crumbling brickwork and doors dangling by their hinges, with weeds as tall as he was and some signs of wildlife. Shadows loomed from every corner; the moonlight catching bits of glass and hanging metal like eyes in the night.

The wind whistled around them, tugging at branches and wisping up leaves, and Raphael swore he heard the faint hint of a child’s laugh.

“Where the hell are we?” He whispered, eyeing the skeletal remains of the battered structure before them.

“When I coughed up Shredder’s brain worm I found myself in a sewer like the one we came from.” Said Karai, stopping for only a moment to check if the coast was clear, before slithering up against the old brick wall in a way that would be impossible for anyone with a human spine.

Raphael followed, eyeing the neglected ruins with unease.

“I followed it.” Karai continued, lowering her voice as she peered through one of the many shattered windows. “It brought me to this island. It’s an old hospital of some kind. They used to keep people here against their will.”

“Oh, yeah?” Murmured Raphael, fixing his attention back on the trees, their half dead branches reaching like blackened claws. “Again, you know this _how?_ ”

“Because one the patients carved it into the wall.” 

Karai didn’t look at him, too focused on watching for any movement in their surroundings, and boy was Raphael glad as he shivered, and not from the cold.

“I needed a place to think.” She continued when he didn’t offer any commentary, “It’s actually charming once you get used to the random noises and feeling of eyes on you at every turn.”

_‘Oh yeah, sounds real fucking cozy…’_

“Over here.” Karai motioned for him to follow and again he did, not because he trusted her leadership, but because he had no clue where they were and he sure as shell didn’t plan on getting lost in this creep show.

They hugged the wall, still carefully watching for any mutants or people as they moved for the entrance. It gaped like an open mouth at their approach, the shattered windows decorating the stone above it glistening like the eyes of a predator. Withered and dying bushes littered the front entrance, twitching as the wind blew and twirled the dried up leaves into the air and seemed to beckon them away in warning as they crept into the building. 

It was probably a good thing Mikey hadn’t been the one to follow him after all; a place like this was bound to give the youngest nightmares. As much as Michelangelo loved his horror comics and B grade Monster flicks; little bro just didn’t have the same nerves of steel as Raph did when it came to the real thing.

Speaking of the real thing…

The inside of the so-called- Hospital wasn’t any better than the outside, if anything it looked worse. Plaster hung from the ceiling like spiders from their webs, mingling with the actual spiders whose nests blanketed every corner in a thick layer of web and dust, visible to him even in the dark.

Raphael paused, his gaze locked on the webbing above his head that looked like it could come tumbling down at any moment with the slightest breeze, taking its occupants with it… He was starting to feel itchy.

“We can get a good view from the roof.” He just barely heard Karai murmur, still moving ahead towards a set of stairs, but Raphael’s attention was drawn to the leaf littered floor; with every gust the leaves would twitch, shifting about like a carpet of bugs just waiting to crawl between his toes.

He shuddered, the wind whispering through the door frame and tugging at his shell; _‘Ra-pha-el’_ it seemed to sing. Was it him, or was it unusually dry in here?

“Raphael?” 

Wait, was that the wind or Karai? At this point did he even care? He scratched at his neck. Damn, he was itchy…

He scratched at the goosebumps that rose along the back of his neck, trying and failing to ignore the feeling of breath creeping down his skin, the spiders skittering above his head, and the leaves rustling apart to reveal the shiny shell of a… a… really big, fucking cockroach…

The bug froze, sensing his presence and he stiffened where he stood, his eyes widening as the beast turned its head, antennae twitching, staring straight at him, straight through him, locking on him as though he were a target…

_‘Nope!!’_

 

\------------------------------------------------------

 

Karai stared, dumbfounded at the retreating form of the pale turtle, now sprinting away into the forest like a startled rabbit. 

What was his deal? They had a perfect opportunity to gain a clear vantage point of the whole island and he just bolts?! What, was the big bad turtle afraid some jibakurei was going to apparate from the shadows and get him? 

“Kuso na tātoru.” She cursed under her breath as she stormed down the steps and marched in the direction he’d vanished.

Ghosts would be the least of his worries once she got ahold of him!

 

\-------------------------------------------------------

 

Raphael gasped, clutching the trunk of a tree, his heart going so fast he could feel it slamming against his plastron.

“What is wrong with you?!” Came a voice from behind him; it was Karai, and she was obviously pissed. Shell, why did he have to freak out in front of her of all people? He’d never hear the end of it now!

“Shut up!” He snapped at her, about ready to unleash every bit of pent up anger and frustration that he’d been holding in since he’d begun stalking his brother. He didn’t give a fuck if she understood where Donnie’s head was at; she didn’t need to be here and she didn’t need to be questioning him or his-

He stiffened, moving out of instinct as his senses detected something. Karai slipped silently in behind him as she picked up on it as well. 

They fitted into the trees just in time, as a silent shape shimmered into existence right where they’d been standing.

It was a…a...well, Raphael really didn’t know what it was. He stared, his head tilting as he struggled to understand what he was seeing, as a cloud, er…mist shuddered in the air with a grainy texture visible in the moonlight that looked almost like…sand? Was that even possible? How the heck could it look like mist and sand at the same time? What the hell was he even looking at?

He squinted from behind the tree he was clutching, trying to make sense of what he was seeing, when Karai poked him and motioned for him to follow. 

If she didn’t knock it off with that poking business, he can’t promise he won’t break her finger.

Raphael gave the…thing…another glance before he backed up, stepping into Karai’s tracks, and trailed after her. It was a little bit after when he realized where they were headed and why, as a hint of smoke wafted past his nose and a pipe chimney came into view above the treetops, and by then there wasn’t a need to speak. If Karai was willing to forget his little freak out then so was he!

Glad for the silence, he shadowed her up against yet another run down building. This one was also made of brick, with two large smokestacks that towered above it. There were other buildings around it, but for some reason Karai had narrowed in on this one.

Like before she slithered up beside it, pausing just below a shattered window and pressed up against the brick. As Raphael followed he heard a muffled voice and grew even more cautious. 

“You’re becoming paranoid.” 

“Hooo.”

“You can alert all you want my friend, but if there’s nothing there, then there’s nothing there. It was probably a pair of Night-Heron.” 

“Hoo-hoo!”

Curious, Raphael leaned up ever so slightly, enough to peer through the broken glass, and catch a glimpse of who, or what, had been speaking.

It was a black and white fluffy dog, a mutant dog, standing on its hind legs like a werewolf in one of Mikey’s comics, only with a dark green sweater and jeans that made its fluff out around the ends. It was just visible in the candle light, the whole area filled with tech that reminded him of Donnie’s lab. The outside of the building may have looked like it was about to fall down, but the inside looked almost brand new! 

There was another mutant there also; a feathery fluff ball perched on a coat rack with its eyes tightly shut. 

“Hoo.” It hooted like an owl, fluffing its feathers, and its eyes opened. 

Raphael blinked, startled by what he was seeing. Instead of eyes, the creature had two smoking orbs that glistened and shimmered just like the strange substance that he and Karai had seen moments before. 

“If it bothers you that much then search the area again.” Muttered the dog, leaning over what appeared to be a computer. “Honestly A1-7, if you truly think someone made it on the island then you should alert the guards, not complain to me.”

The bird, thing, hooted again but the dog just waved at it, his lips pulling back with an agitated snarl. “Do I look like a guard?” He asked before he huffed and flattened his ears. “I have to go meet our guest. If you’ll excuse me, I’ll alert them to your concerns but really, I don’t understand why you don’t tell them yourself.”

“What the...?” Breathed Raph, cocking an eyeridge as the dog closed his laptop and checked the contents of a beaker before heading for the door, when Karai nudged him again.

“There’s only two in there.” She hissed, a flash of her reptilian eyes glinting at him in the candle’s faint light. “I can see the heat from several moving bodies in that building over there. We’re heading into the heart of their camp.”

“The roof?” He whispered back, and she nodded.

Without giving the weird bird or the dog another glance he followed her through the dying trees to the building on the other side. This one was in far better shape than the last, covered in ivy and broken branches; not as many windows were shattered and the doors were still up on their hinges. He could sense something was near, but otherwise didn’t see anyone.

While Raphael kept watch, Karai slithered up the vines to the roof then signaled when it was safe for him to follow. 

The roof was in pretty good shape as well, weak in some places with a hole here and there but otherwise it held up as they crept across it.

“There’ss at leassst fifteen in thiss building.” He heard Karai hiss, “Ssome of them are faint, but I can read their heat ssignaturesss through the brick.”

Right, shape-shifting snake powers….

“There’ss a way in over here.” Hissed Karai, and he followed her over to a hole just large enough for him to squeeze through. 

Again she took the lead, slithering in first with him hot on her tail. The moment they were inside however, he realized that something was off; 

The hole in the roof dropped down into what he assumed was an attic, but beneath his feet weren’t rotting floorboards, but a perfect, brand new shingled roof with what appeared to be water basins beneath each hole in the rotten ceiling set up to catch water as it fell.

As they slipped along the roof, they found pipes and vents, all of it new that had been built into the original structure.

“Well, they’ve been busy.” He heard Karai murmur, and Raph nodded in agreement.

They found a vent that was just big enough for them to move through. Karai slithered in, now fully in her snake form, and he followed, taking care not to make a sound as they traveled down the vent that wound its way around the three-story building. It seemed to be a source of fresh air, for most of the rooms they passed were walled off completely from the outside world, each one filled with thick iron doors and obvious cell rooms that only grew more secure the deeper down they went.

These mutants weren’t playing around, and from the look of their set up, they’d been at this for a while…

“I don’t think Donnie’s in here.” Whispered Raph, “We should probably-” When the tip of Karai’s tail flicked up and pressed against his lips to silence him. 

_‘Ok, that tears it!’_ The poking was bad enough, but HELL if he was going to put up with her sticking her ass-end against his mouth!

He spat and shook his head, about ready to pull out his Sai and stab her, when he heard her hiss, “Can’t you sssmell them? It’s SSlash and the other Mutanimalssss. They’re in here ssomewhere.”

He paused and closed his eyes, sniffing at the air, and sure enough picked up on the faintest trace of a familiar scent. 

“Shit.” He whispered, sniffing at one of the vents in an attempt to pinpoint the smell, if their friends were being held in here, it wasn’t for anything good. “We gotta find them and get them the heck outta’ here.”

“If we can.” Hissed Karai, her eyes glinting at him with a warning, “We can’t afford to be sstupid, Raphael. If we can’t get out without being sseen, then we must focusss on our original mission: Locate Donatello.”

“But-!” Raph tried to argue, but the stern glare Karai gave told him she wasn’t going to budge on this one.

“These are mutantsss who mount headss on sspikesss.” She whispered, “If the othersss are alive when we find them, itsss for a reason, which meansss they’ll be alive long enough for usss to return for them with _help._ ”

He gritted his teeth and suppressed a growl, but said nothing in return. As much as he hated it, the cold-blooded bitch was probably right. Finding his brother came first. 

“Thisss way.”

Right or not, she was starting to get way too bossy for his liking.

Raph glowered at the dark shape of Karai’s tail as it slithered down the vent but followed, quietly wondering if anyone would notice if he locked her into one of those damn cells and left her there for the _other_ asshole snake and his friends to find…

Enjoying the mental image, he kept his silence down through the second and then past the third floor, down into what he could only assume was a basement. That’s where things got…weird.

Well, _weirder._

“Oh no, please don’t be upset.” Whimpered a voice so soft Raphael barely heard it through the vent. “Just breathe with me. And in-two-three- and out-two-three and-“

“Sound proof rooms wawhk both ways, deah.”

Karai slithered to a stop by one of the vent grates, moving her pale coils just enough to make room for Raphael. He peered through the tiny opening to the scene below and found everything that he’d feared.

Slash, Rockwell, Leatherhead, some scorpion mutant, and some sort of…mutant…robot bull thing, whatever, locked behind solid steel doors. 

Leatherhead was barely visible, the only bit of him Raph could see being his jagged teeth through a basketball sized window as he roared from behind the door. He slammed into the door, the heavy metal shuddering with every strike, but even though he was in a rage, not a single sound could be heard save for the harsh vibrations of each impact.

Both Rockwell and Slash were across from him in similar cells, both with steel doors and small round windows just large enough to see in. There was no sign of Mondo Gecko, but given his pathetic abilities he was probably in a much less guarded cell… Or just not worth capture.

From where Raphael was he could see Rockwell, visibly meditating while Slash was…peeling apart a paper plate…?

Well, everyone handled being caged differently, he guessed. 

At first glance it seemed like an easy rescue. There were only two guards; one blobby green goo mutant with a skull for a head, and another turtle; one even more massive than Slash, with raised gray scales, a wicked sharp looking beak, and a scowl on its face as it kept its head bent to prevent banging it into the ceiling.

They both looked slow, easy to out-manuever, and the blob…well, that thing just looked about as intelligent as Timothy.

“Oh, he’s so upset.” The blob mutant murmured, it’s soft feminine voice sounding odd coming from such a gross squishy creature. It turned to its companion, its fluid like arms curling into its chest. “Maybe we should let him out? Stretch his legs, get some air and-“

“No.” The big turtle grunted with the tone of an old and bitter woman. She clicked her beak, nodding towards Rockwell’s door “Remembah teh last time? Doan let dem fool yuh fawh a second. Dey're wawhkin' fawh dose awful men, dey'll turn on us in a hawht beat, ‘ya heah?”

Tilting her skull, the blobby thing oozed her way over to peer into Slash’s cell.

“Aww...” She suddenly cooed, “He’s folding a flower out of his plate! Oh…and he’s trying to say something!” She waited for a moment, no doubt studying Slash’s lips before she gasped, her blobby hands flying to her skeletal mouth and whipped back around to her fellow guard. 

“He says, ‘you’re still as beautiful as the day you first punched me in the eye’. How romantic! Oh Victoria, why not give him a chance?”

Raphael snorted. These were the best guards snake-boy could come up with? Some bag-lady from Yonkers and _Princess Push-over?_ Busting his friends out would be a snap! They’d just slip through the vent and get those doors open, scare off these two charity cases, beat any other guards they find into a pulp, find Donnie (and Mondo, maybe), then book it home! Easy.

Until Karai opened her mouth…

“We need to get out of here.” She hissed, “They’ve got camerasss.”

“So?” Raphael hissed back, and the big turtle woman’s head twitched, her nostrils flaring. If they were going to move, now would be the time.

“Ssee that door?” She whispered, pointing at the only way in and out besides the vent, “Notice the thick iron along the top? Shredder had thossse. The moment we try to free the otherss ,whoever is watching through thosse camerasss will releassse it, sslamming down a ssteel door ssso thick I doubt even Ssslash would be able to sslam through it fassst enough to get usss to freedom before were sswarmed.”

“Hang on, deah; you smell dat?” Growled the massive snapping turtle as she got to her feet, one clawed hand pressed against the ceiling as she began to inspect the different cells.

“It’sss not worth it.” Continued Karai, “Esspecially if they just lock uss up and hide uss from Donatello. Thisss is information we can usse against them. Donatello’ss not sso far gone that he won’t be outraged that they’ve locked up hiss friendsss.”

Raph’s eyes widened. The thought hadn’t even occurred to him that snake-boy might go to such lengths to keep Donatello around. Damnit, she was right… _again._

Shell, he could _not_ catch a break tonight!

Clenching his hands into fists, he cursed under his breath and gave the Mighty Mutanimals a final glance. 

“I can’t smell anything. I… I don’t have a nose. Sorry.” He heard the blob girl apologize, and with that he turned, abandoning his friends.

Now in a mood worse then before, Raphael retraced his steps until he was pulling himself back up onto the roof.

He didn’t question it as Karai slithered away to the edge, shifting back into her half-human form before leading him onto the branch of a tall maple tree. 

The nerve of that serpent asshole; First Donatello, then his friends- what was next!? Locking up him and his brothers if they didn’t agree to hunting down humans? Locking up Master Splinter? April? Casey?!

They leaped in silence from tree to tree, keeping to the shadows until they reached the next closest building. 

“There’s more mutants in here.” He heard her hiss, “It looks like they’re living in this-“

A high pitch squeal cut her off, and the pair ducked down out of reflex.

“Thirteen!!!”

Raphael’s eyes widened, recognizing that number as Donatello’s right as Karai turned, grinning at him. “Found him.” She hissed.

Not caring if she followed, Raph shot for the edge of the roof and searched for whoever had made the sound. Thankfully it wasn’t that hard that find.

He could just make out the flickering of a flame through the trees, the sound of hushed voices whispering above the flutter of leaves. 

Silent as he could he slipped onto one of the closer branches and quietly returned to the ground.

There were other mutants around him, he could hear them; a faint murmur of voices and movement coming from within the building as well as nearby. They had to be getting close to the center of the renegade mutants’ camp.

“Hey!” A male voice called out. “Come back here, you know better than to run- Oh! It’s _you_. It’s really you. Cameel let go of him now, that’s rude!”

“It’s alright.” Replied another, and Raph instantly recognized the voice of his brother. “She’s not a problem, I’ll walk her home. Which building is hers?”

“That would be awesome man, I know the other kids would love to see you. All we’ve heard are stories of you out there fighting the-” 

No longer listening, Raph focused on the direction of the voices and crept through the brush until the shapes of mutants could be seen, barely illuminated by a single candle. 

Donatello was there, standing tall and proud, almost fearless. No longer was he a broken shell of a turtle that flinched from touches and hid from prying eyes, but a bold and strong face that stood in the middle of five other mutants with a smaller one curled in his arms. It was a little lizard, a girl judging by her dress. She had a long curly tail that she’d used to wrap around his brother’s middle; clinging to him like he was the only thing in life that mattered.

There was a scrawny cat, maybe a teenager, waving for Donatello to follow. Beside them was a familiar mutant that Raphael recognized immediately. It was the black and white fluffy dog who’d he’d seen arguing with an owl mutant just a short time ago. Around them were two smaller children that he couldn’t really make out, nor did he care to as his eyes landed on the black scales of the bastard snake he hated with every inch of his being. 

_You abandoned him._ He remembered him hissing. _The amount of timesss he cried out for you and sscreamed your namesss- you were never there! Now look at you, it’sss like you’re trying to get captured and drag him right back behind thosse barsss…_

A growl rose in his chest, his hand itching for his Sais, when a hand snapped around his wrist and pulled it back.

“Don’t be stupid.” He heard Karai nagging at him, but his gaze never left the snake; the snake whose disgusting coils were slowly wrapping around Donatello’s foot!! 

It took everything he had not to leap out of the bushes and rip that tail away from his brother, but he managed, and thankfully after a moment the mutant dog reached out and whispered something in his snake buddy’s ear, causing him to let go.

Donatello didn’t say a word as the coil released him, far too distracted by the kid in his arms, showering her with soft smiles and gentle words.

She giggled and hugged Donatello tighter, one hand coming up to cover her freaky cone-shaped eyes before she vanished. 

Literally _vanished._

What the hell was up with this place?!

“Look at you!” Praised Donnie, his arms now cradling air as he moved away with the others, “Or…not.”

“I hate that snake.” Raphael growled under his breath, his gaze locked on the back of his brother’s head. “I can’t wait to tell Donnie how he locked up our friends.”

“We need to get Donatello alone first.” Karai reminded him, and she slinked out from the brush, crossed the path Donatello had been on and slipped into the trees on the other side. 

He watched her go, giving his brother and the four-armed-asshole one final glare before he followed after her.

They shadowed the group from the trees, keeping an eye on Donatello at all times. They passed small groups of mutants every now and then, confirming his conclusion that they were close to the center of their base of operations. The groups were huddled around small fires, cooking from the smell of it, none of them on alert or caring to notice as the two ninja slipped past them.

Karai seemed interested in the huddled mutants as they slipped past, but Raphael only had eyes for his brother. 

There were two smaller buildings that they went by, both just as run down looking as the others they’d been in, with mutants of all kinds quietly coming and going from them. The group they were stalking murmured something about a greenhouse, and something else about storage before they came to a stop outside of yet another run-down brownstone piece of crud that looked like it would collapse with a slight wind, but was probably perfect on the inside just like the rest. 

“What about a school?” He heard Donatello ask as he pressed up against the ivy-covered brick.

The dog mutant straightened, looking rather proud of himself. “We’re working on repairing one of the buildings for that very purpose. A place where young mutants can come and get an education, not a proper one with a diploma obviously, but-”

Karai’s voice over powered the dogs as she whispered in his ear. “I wonder if they’ll tell him about their prison?” 

“Why would they?” He whispered back, “That’d be pretty stupid of-” But she stopped him.

“If they don’t know that were allied with the Mutanimals, they might just tell him.”

Raphael let out a grunt of amusement, keeping focus on Donatello. Now THAT would make his day; Donatello finally realizing what a phony his so-called _‘friend’_ really was.

That snake had such a _holier than thou_ attitude, but while Donnie was locked up in that place, here he was running this psycho circus and locking up the good guys! 

In the end, THEY were the ones who rescued Donnie, his brothers, his _family_ , the people who _actually_ cared about him. 

Man, he hoped they spilled the beans about their little _‘jail’_ ; he could really use a good laugh.

Donatello was smiling now, gently setting the now visible reptile girl down on the buildings broken steps while murmuring something that Raphael couldn’t make out. More mutants had joined them, many small and childlike, others scrawny and teenlike. A few larger mutants were hovering by the door, watching uneasily as though they were afraid to step outside.

“It’sss sstarting ssoon if you’d like to join usss.” He heard the snake say. “There are many who I’m sure would find sstrength in your pressenccce.” 

Donatello nodded, straightening up despite the little girl whose tail was still clutched around his wrist, unwilling to let go- clingy little thing… 

“Sure. It’d be a nice change of pace to be around others who actually understand me. My brothers try, but…”

The asshole nodded, a smug look of understanding on his scaly muzzle as he met Donatello’s eye. “They can’t.”

Donatello shook his head no, his face falling for only a moment, but Raphael caught it.

Fuuuck . He _knew_ it! He fucking _knew_ it! That bastard was trying to turn Donatello against them! Man, where was Leo when he needed to rub something in his face?!

The children who had surrounded Donatello began to whine, pouting and moaning over something Raphael must’ve missed. He shifted to get a better view, when he realized that one of the larger mutants was ushering the children back inside.

“But I wanna go!” They whimpered and whined, “Why can’t we stay with Thirteen?”

The little lizard girl covered her eyes and promptly vanished again, despite her tail still latched onto Donatello’s wrist. “No!” She squeaked, but the mutants around her seemed prepared and picked her up even though she was invisible.

“It’s alright, I’ll come back.” Donatello promised, and she must have let go for he took a few steps back and began to say his farewell to the little ones. 

“We should get higher.” Karai whispered in his ear, “Stay out of sight.” And for once he willingly agreed.

As Donatello and his company began to move away, he and Karai retreated. 

A strong patch of vine and ivy was their ticket straight to the top, and they climbed it, carefully staying in the shadows while keeping an eye on Donatello and his…friends. 

The triad was moving around the building, thankfully remaining in view as they headed in the direction of another large structure visible through the trees.

_‘Geez, was there a whole TOWN here or something? Just how many buildings does this dump have?!’_

This building was enormous, very much like the first bug infested shit hole that Karai had attempted to lead him into when they first came onto the island, only this one wasn’t vacant. 

The other one had an air of abandonment to it, something that left it hollow and decaying, while this one felt more alive somehow, and not in the creepy way. There was activity here, an obvious sense of life that the other one lacked. More than likely it was just like the others, decrepit on the outside and brand spanking new on the inside. They’d find out soon enough, as Donatello, the asshole and the dog moved in its direction.

Raphael and Karai darted through the trees unseen, tailing them right up to the steps where the black and white dog mutant left them, saying something about “not being ready just yet”.

That didn’t seem stop Donatello from disappearing inside with the asshole.

Just what was there not to be ready for inside that building? Some kind of gang initiation? Screw that! Whatever it was, Raph planned on cutting it, and possibly the snake, off at the head.

Grabbing a fist full of vine, he followed Karai up to the roof top. 

Just as he expected, this roof was no different from the rest he’d run across that night, with holes and chunks falling in, rotten boards and missing tiles making it look condemned beyond repair. While underneath, everything was like new, only this one had skylights between the water collectors, the perfect spyholes.

They carefully inspected one, finding a room on the other side lit by soft glowing candles. There were several mutants in there, watching as another mutant, a tall human shaped blob man with rocks for eyes, shifted through the motions of self-defense, then waited for the class to mimic.

The other rooms were similar, some learning to defend, others using their abilities on each other in what appeared to be sparring matches. 

At first he assumed it was a training facility, a place to recruit a mutant army to butcher humans, but as he shifted from window to window, he realized there was more to it than that.

Some of the rooms were lined with pictures, candles and incense with small gifts left along the walls. There were more mutants in there, some simply staring at the walls while others cried and wept. It was kind of depressing…but then again, maybe it was what that asshole used to motivate them into killing?

He peered into another, finding a couple huddled together in the glow of the soft light, simply holding each other and crying.

“Hey!” He heard Karai whisper, “I found Donatello.”

“Finally!” He muttered under his breath and hurried to her side. “What’s the snake doing? Showing him his training program or-”

He trailed off, finding what looked like a gymnasium bellow them, filled with twenty, maybe thirty mutants of every kind of mutation; Birds, cats, dogs, plants, he shuddered- bugs… And sitting in the very middle, with that _fucking_ snake coiling around him, was his brother, Donatello.

“I think I can get it open- Hold on, I need my hands.” And next thing Raphael knew, Karai had popped the window open just a crack and was back to looking fully human. 

He was _never_ going to get used to her doing that…

“-Williams.” Echoed a voice of a woman, teary and half sobbing, grabbing Raph’s attention to what was happening below them. 

“That human helped us when the system locked down. He warned me that my baby’s time was limited, that Grail was going to cut her open and wait to see how long it took for her to die.”

_‘Wait, a baby? Somebody was going to cut open a BABY??’_

Raphael’s stomach turned as the voice choked back a sob, and he squinted, searching for whoever it was that was talking.

“What is this?” Asked Karai, “Some sort of group therapy?” 

“H-her mutation left her able to adapt to situations in order to survive. Go under water, grow gills, get thrown into a-” She swallowed, whoever she was then choked out, “F-fire, and she became fire resistant. He was going to keep torturing her, keep trying to kill her over and over. I, we, we’d been there for so long, I never dreamed that we would _actually_ make it out, so when the glitch h-happened… I got into her cage and fought those men off until they retreated. Then held her in my arms, told her it would be alright, waited for her to fall asleep and I- I…” 

The woman broke down into sobs, and finally Raphael pinpointed her. It was the same colorful bird mutant that had met Donatello in the sewers, huddled into the arms of big werewolf looking dog.

“I murdered her!!” She sobbed, her feathered body convulsing into her friend as she wept, “I was the only one who knew how since we mutated the same. I never- I just wanted to take her away from that monster, just give my poor baby some peace, I would’ve gladly taken her place on his table! I didn’t… I never thought… I… I _murdered_ her, and now I’m here, _she_ should be here- I... I shouldn’t be here, I wasn’t supposed to make it out, I’m- I’m…” 

She finally broke down, squawking out something unintelligible as she buried her face into the werewolf’s fur while those around her murmured their support, hushing her with comforting words and reassurance. 

Yup…it looked like it was one great big therapy session… Yikes.

Movement pulled Raphael’s attention back to his brother as the snake lifted his upper torso- _‘sonuvabitch, what’s he got his coils wrapped around Donnie for?!-’_ to stand tall.

“I’m glad you came and shared with usss tonight.” He hissed over the bird mutant’s tears, “Asss you know, holding that pain insside will only eat you up and drive you inssane. You ssaved your child from unimaginable pain, and now she remainsss with you alwaysss in sspirit. No one blamesss you for what you’ve done.”

“No shit…” Whispered Karai, sounding if anything impressed and disgusted at the same time, “That poor woman.”

“Why not!?” The bird lady sobbed, her voice becoming hysterical, “How am I different from them?!”

This time it was Donatello who raised his head high, the rest of his body still ‘snuggled up’ in the length of the asshole’s tail, and called out to the distressed mutant in a voice an octave or two lower than what was typical of the genius, and far more confident; “We’ve all taken lives. We’ve all done things we aren’t proud of to survive in that place. You are nothing like them, A4-36-“

“What’s with the numbers? Don’t they have names?” Raphael growled, but Karai shushed him.

“I can count on one hand the number of things I regret doing while in that place. I haven’t lost any sleep over the humans I killed. I suppose, from an ethical standpoint, that SHOULD concern me, but the fact is it was either them or me. I chose to live, and I don’t regret fighting back.”

The mutants around him nodded and voiced their agreement, when one of them yelled out to him.

“What about going back in and getting captured again? Do you regret that?”

It was an odd question, one that Raphael had never thought to ask, not that he ever thought Donatello would’ve answered him…

“No.” said Donatello simply. “I went back in to free another mutant. I had a rule- _no mutant left behind_ , and I planned on keeping to that rule. I found him with Dr. Williams’ help; ZC12-01. His mutation left him unable to die even when his brain was separated from his skull, so the scientists had left him in pieces in Dr. Grail’s _‘Parts’_ room.”

An uneasy murmur rippled through the crowd, but Donatello kept talking.

“I knew this particular mutant from my life before that place. He was my enemy, someone who had attacked me before, and he was the student of a man who wanted to kill me and my family.”

“Wait…” Raph whispered, “Is he- does he mean…Rahzar?” 

“I think so.” Karai whispered back, looking stunned, “Looks like even Shredder’s old lackeys are getting caught by these people.”

“He begged me for mercy,” Donatello continued, “Through lungs separated from his body. There wasn’t any way to save him from that place, and I could’ve left him to suffer and escaped. I could’ve left him for Grail to continue to pick apart for who knows how long. Instead I chose to stay and I ended his pain, just as A4 did for her daughter, and I don’t regret that.” 

Donatello turned, looking back at the bird mutant still huddled into her canine friend, “Williams should be here too, but he’s not… Because he stayed to help me find ZC12, and to hack into Grail’s computer systems, deleting gigabytes worth of data in research and eating up the time we had left to escape, because I refused to leave until we did. In a way, it’s almost as if I murdered both of them. I’m just like you, A4, so don’t ever think you’re alone.”

His brother sounded so _different_ ; his unusually deep voice held faint traces of pent up anger that Raph thought he could relate to, but it was more like a _controlled_ anger; calmer, more collected, more of a turn on… 

Shell, this was pissing him off! 

His fists clenched around the edge of the window, any possible traces of arousal were no match for the anger and hurt clawing up from his stomach like a monster rearing up and ready to attack.

Why couldn’t Donatello do this at home? Why couldn’t he talk to them so openly like he was now? Did he think they’d blame him or something? Had the snake poisoned his mind that much that he was intentionally shutting them out without them even realizing it? Did he…did not feel… safe around them anymore?

He gritted his teeth, thinking hard. He had to find a way to get him back before he pulled away from them faster than Leonardo ever did.

First things first, he had to get that asshole OFF of his brother! Seriously, they can’t sit next to Donnie on the couch without him flinching but he’s just gonna’ sit there and let that pervert in snake’s skin _grope_ him like that? What the hell?!

“You said ‘things’ that you regret. Was there something, I mean, other than what happened to Williams?” Called another mutant, and Raphael found his attention locked back onto reality and waiting with bated breath. 

Could Donnie be hiding something _else_ they didn’t know about?

Donatello was looking at the crowd, the snake’s long body hugging tightly around his legs and middle, and for the very first time since they had found him, he looked a little…uneasy.

So he _was_ hiding something, and the guilt was eating at him; he hadn’t been turned into a heartless killing machine after all!

After a moment, he nodded and spoke. “There was…something I really didn’t want to do, but at the same time it was also something that I HAD to do, even though I’m still not sure it was the _right_ thing to do- After all the experiments, probing, and violence, I didn’t think there was anything left that could shake me…”

He paused, taking a deep breath, and Raphael leaned in closer to better hear him, Karai watching intently at his side, equally curious.

“…But, there is one thing that still haunts me more than anything else. It goes against everything that I was ever taught, everything that I ever believed in. It’s done, nothing will change that, and I know I have to come to terms with it eventually but… ” 

Donatello went on, and even from way up high, it was obvious that his brother had lost some color. “…I’m not so sure that I can forgive myself.”

Raph kept focus, staring hard at the naked turtle below him, confessing his soul to a room full of strangers while in the embrace of the murderous serpent that was quickly becoming the bane of Raphael’s existence. 

He was so full of questions and eagerness to hear a bit of humanity slip from Donatello’s lips that he failed to notice as their shadows shifted from two, to five…


	34. Ch. 34

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning- Get tissues.

 

“Damnit!”

A dull ‘thud’ sounded as Donatello’s fist connected with concrete. How could he have been so stupid?!

He glared down at the grate he’d managed to pry free and glowered at the drain beneath it. 

The grate itself may have been wide enough to fit his little friend through, but in his hunger induced idiocy he’d completely forgotten about the floor trough…

The actual drain, sitting beneath the grate in the center of the overflow catch, was only six inches in diameter…

He snarled in frustration and grabbed the grate, hurling it across the filthy cage at the unbreakable glass with a crash that reverberated throughout the room. 

How pathetic he must’ve looked to the scientists no doubt watching him on cameras. He couldn’t escape, he couldn’t fight them off, and now he couldn’t even spare a single domestic turtle from an agonizingly slow and painful death. All that effort for nothing…

Huffing and puffing he slid to the ground and ‘thunked’ his aching head against the cool floor. He’d worn himself out, both in energy and spirit…

After a moment of self-loathing, the lack of sound began to tug at him; where was the subtle scrape and drag of Archimedes’ shell?

He glanced around, scanning the floor, and quickly found why the room had grown so quiet. 

Archimedes had sucked into his shell.

Guilt lanced through Donatello’s heart at the sight; his sudden aggressive display had frightened the only friend he had left.

“Archimedes.” He whispered, and when the turtle didn’t move or dare even peek from the safety of his shell, it left a tightness in his chest that hurt as much as the lingering emptiness in his stomach. 

“I…I’m…” He tried to say but his dry throat constricted, fresh tears burning at the edges of his eyes. 

He swallowed hard and crawled to his companion still tucked in tight. “I just wanted… I-I didn’t...” He stammered, “I didn’t mean t-to...”

Gently he picked up Archimedes and cradled the terrified turtle in his arms, close to his chest. 

“I shouldn’t’ve… acted out like that...” He forced out around a cough, his throat still too tight to properly speak. He sniffled and gently curled around the little turtle. “Please don’t be upset.” 

His breath shuddered, every inch of him shaking as emotion overwhelmed him. 

What was he going to do if Archimedes was afraid of him now? Never wanted to come out or be near him? 

“Please…you’re all I have.”

Ever so slowly a small green head peered out at him, dark eyes watching with caution as though expecting Donatello to hurl _him_ next.

“I’m s-sorry.” Donnie whispered again, his voice wavering still but finally calm enough to force the words out without cracking, “I’m so, so sorry.”

Whether the smaller reptile was able to somehow feel his sincerity or merely sensed that the danger had passed, he couldn’t be sure, but for whatever reason, Archimedes stretched his neck and pushed out completely, his tiny cheek pressing up against Donatello’s plastron and watched him.

It was a simple show of trust, and it was enough to break him.

Shuddering, he pulled his friend up close and buried his face into small carapace, his tears pouring free as his sobs echoed around him in the dark…

 

_\-------Day something…Based on weight loss and pain, probably day 12-14_

Donatello lay plastron down in the straw, his arms curled in front of him so he could rest his cheek against something other than the cold hard floor. 

There was a slight weight on the top center of his carapace, a gentle reminder of his friend’s constant presence. It was Archimedes’ favorite place to sleep, and shell help him if he tried to lay any other way.

A small huff sounded from above and he felt his friend begin to move. Small clawed feet scraping across his shell as the little turtle turned to get more comfortable, shuffling along until-

Anticipating what would happen next, he braced himself. Sure enough, the wandering terrapin slipped and slid down the slope of Donatello’s carapace, bonking into the back of the mutant’s head before tipping over onto the floor.

Little feet scrambled in the straw as Archimedes flopped onto his side, quickly righting himself. His head stretched out and peered up warily, perhaps hoping his less than graceful descent had gone unnoticed.

Donnie cocked an eyeridge at him and smiled, growing even more amused when his little friend quickly looked away and began to carefully claw his way back up onto his sleeping spot. 

“I saw that.” He murmured, and he swore he heard the smaller turtle huff at him.

_‘No you didn’t!’_ He could just imagine him saying, _‘You saw nothing.’_

His musings were interrupted by a growl from his stomach, along with a sharp pain reminding him that he was slowly starving to death...

He needed a distraction.

“You know…I remember when we were little, my brothers and I shared a bed and we would huddle close together to keep warm in the winter time. Except for Raphael; rather than sleeping next to us, he always insisted on sleeping on top of us. Just like you…”

He chuckled slightly, remembering how his fiery older brother would crawl up and sprawl out over the three of them like they were his own personal mattress and then snore loudly and pretend to be asleep when they’d complain. 

“Leo and Mikey always hated it, but I was pretty much used to it since I got sat on by Raph so much during the day. Being a bed isn’t all that different from being a chair.” He let out a sigh as Archimedes managed to find to good foot hold and begin to climb back up onto Donatello’s carapace. 

“I actually miss it. Feeling him on top, so close and warm. Feeling all of them. Their bodies-”

He froze as he realized just what he was saying, out loud no less, and bolted upright, knocking poor Archimedes to the floor and earning himself a world spinning headache.

“Ahg, dangit...” Clutching his head with one hand, he reached out with the other to search for his friend. “Bad idea. Such a bad idea.”

He found his companion now stuck on his back, his legs flailing just like before, and quickly righted him. 

“Sorry!” He said quickly, and as his vision cleared he found himself face to face with a very unhappy turtle. 

He cringed. “Sorry.” 

Clearly not ready to accept the taller turtle’s apology, Archimedes bitterly retreated into the confines of his shell to spite him.

It would’ve been far more effective if the excess gastric acid in Donatello’s empty stomach hadn’t chosen that time to flare up.

His stomach clenched and he nearly doubled over, a fresh wave of pain nearly sending him to the floor. 

With a groan he pulled his friend close and peered behind him at the secret stash of food he’d hidden beneath the straw…

_‘No… not yet.’_

It was still too early for their daily ration of water. He couldn’t touch the food stash now or else Archimedes would want _his_ kibble bit as well, and without the water he needed to aid in swallowing, he would choke.

“Ok…” He murmured, looking down at the turtle still clutched to his plastron in his boney arms. Archimedes was still glowering at him for the toss through the air, his dark eyes narrowed in obvious anger as he remained in ‘lock-down’.

“That was really rude of me and I’m sorry. How about a fun fact, huh? You like those, right?”

Archimedes continued to glare at him from within his shell; an imagined scowl that Donnie knew couldn’t possibly be accomplished with a beak still firmly on his little green face. 

He cleared his throat. “Sooo…did you know that, in addition to being one of the few species that can completely retract our heads into our shells, red eared sliders also possess the most versatile vestibulo-ocular reflex? That’s when the superior oblique muscle rotates inward or outwards in order to compensate for head movement when you have your sights focused on a particular spot…Despite having lateral eyes, your eyes can operate more like a forward facing mammal, like a human. Most turtles can’t do that. Pretty neat, huh?”

Archimedes didn’t move or make any suggestion that he agreed or not, and Donnie’s smile slowly fell, changing from a dorky grin to something far more wistful. 

“You know who has incredible eyes?” He asked softly, “My brothers. Leo and Mikey both have blue eyes, different shades though; Leo’s are darker and remind me of photos I’ve seen online of the ocean right after a storm, while Mikey’s are the exact same shade of blue the sky gets in springtime at the farmhouse when everything is in bloom. Raph’s are green, and not that bluish-green or teal you sometimes see, or that near hazel shade with flecks of brown. His are a vivid green, like the grass in Central Park during summer, they’re just so intense it’s mind boggling.”

He let out a sigh. 

“To tell the truth, I’ve always been a little envious; there really isn’t anything remarkable about brown eyes. It’s the most common eye-color in the world.”

He wasn’t sure if the growing tightness in his chest was from the feelings of nostalgia or from Archimedes’ scrutiny. Erring on the side of caution he looked away to avoid direct eye contact, choosing instead to stare off at the glass wall full of holes.

“The best time to truly appreciate Leo’s eyes is when he’s watching Space Heroes. It’s a terrible cartoon; the plot is redundant, the animation is cheaply done with over-recycled frames, and the dialogue-“

He shook his head. There were no words that could adequately describe the cheesiness of that show.

“-And yet, for some reason Leo loves it.” He murmured softly, “He’ll sit on the floor as close as he can get, his eyes go wide and he’ll get this adorable, geeky smile on his face that makes him look like a little kid.”

His smile faltered. 

“…I, I argue with him a lot, even though in the end I’m always looking to him to come up with a plan to get us out of whatever mess we’re in. I just can’t help but always throw my two cents in whenever things fall short of my expectations. I guess…sometimes it’s just easy to forget that, even though he’s the oldest and in charge, he’s technically not that much older than the rest of us…”

He paused again, though this time he looked back at the turtle tucked in his arms, pondering his own racing thoughts.

“I’ve…” He began and then swallowed. “I’ve made a lot of complaints about my brothers, haven’t I? Going on about how none of them are overly competent with tools, or how they drive me crazy… But, if I’m being honest, I’m hardly a candidate for ‘perfect sibling’ either…

Raph, he’s, he’s actually pretty sensitive and protective. And I know I talk about his temper and how he tends to talk better with his fists, but really, I’m not much better. I… I snap a lot. I get impatient with my brothers when they don’t understand what I’m saying, and…and I can be a real smart-ass. It’s probably hypocritical of me to go on about Raph not using words to express his emotions intelligently. Why would he? Whenever he so much as mentions what he’s feeling, I respond with sarcasm. I wouldn’t want to open up around me either if I were him…”

Donatello pulled his boney knees in close, contemplating his next confession as Archimedes slowly pushed his head out to peer up at him.

“Leo, Raph, Mikey…They all just seem to be so comfortable around each other, like, it just comes naturally to them. They seem to have something that makes it easy to relate to one another. I used to tell myself that it was just because I was so much smarter than them that they felt intimidated by me, but…That was a lie; they weren’t intimidated, they were bored. Everything that fascinates me, they find boring. I bore them, that’s probably why I’m always excluded…”

Swallowing hard, he focused on the smaller turtle now watching him closely. Archimedes was staring back at him unblinking, an accusatory gleam in his eye.

“N-no…” He murmured, looking away, “That’s also a lie. I excluded myself. I get annoyed whenever Mikey bursts into my lab to pester me when I’m working, but…but when he does actually back off and respect my space, it’s…I’m lonely.”

An involuntary shiver ran up his spine. It could’ve been from his blood pressure dropping, but even he thought that was a flimsy excuse.

“He tries to include me all the time; I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve brushed him off just because I was ‘too busy’… I-I actually told him that once, that I was too busy to spend my time with him. Who says that to their own brother? 

But, no matter how many times I threw him out, Mikey just keeps trying-”

A rubbing sensation against his arm made him pause to look back down to the turtle in his arms. Archimedes was gently nuzzling into what was left of his atrophying bicep; almost like he was…comforting him.

His esophagus spasmed and he choked. He couldn’t look at Archimedes anymore and closed his eyes, fighting hard not to let any tears slip, as it would only expedite his condition. 

Several minutes of stifled gasps passed before Donatello finally regained his composure. Or perhaps it was hours? It was difficult to keep track of time when trying to avoid a total breakdown in front of your only friend, and possibly on camera.

However long it was, it was enough time to come to a decision;

“…I’m going to start trying too, _really_ trying; I’m going to stop taking Leonardo for granted, and I’m going to be more patient and work on communicating with Raphael instead of just volleying snide remarks, and Michelangelo…” 

Inhale. Exhale.

“…I don’t care how busy I am. I’m going to make time, for ALL of them. They’re more important than any retro-mutagen or Shellraiser upgrades, and if I was half the genius I claim to be, I would’ve already told them so.”

Pulling Archimedes closer, he nuzzled his cheek against the turtle’s tough shell, relishing in the familiar feeling of scutes against his face and the memories of long nights and scaly green bodies sheltering him from the chill of the sewer.

“I mean it, as soon as they bring us home, I’m going to start being a better brother, I’m going to show them just how much I…”

He needed a moment to catch his breath. His tongue felt like cotton, but he was still able to manage a whisper.

“…Love them.”

Sniffling a little, he hugged Archimedes and sunk back into his straw nest, curling up into a ball around his friend to protect him from the sudden cold that seemed to fill the room. 

“That’s a promise…”

 

_\------------------------Definitely past day fifteen. Not close to day 18 yet._

Donatello stirred, blinking sleep from his eyes as something bumped into his leg. He lay there for a moment, staring at the wall and the holes he’d counted so many times, when he realized that he was laying on his side. 

“Ok, ok.” He murmured, shifting up onto his elbows. He was about to roll back onto his plastron, when the room exploded in a burst of light.

He yelped in pain and cringed back, covering his eyes and cursing as the unmistakable sound of his cage door sliding open reached his ears.

There was no blaring noise this time as the men rushed towards him; they probably thought he was too weak to fight them, and that would be their mistake.

Keeping his eyes closed he mustered up what little strength he had left and sprung, shifting away from Archimedes and drew the men away from his nest.

The sound of their shoes clicking against pavement told him they were following; Archimedes wasn’t their target, _he_ was.

Loosing energy faster than he had hoped, he spun, turning as he heard them draw close and swiped thick claws at the air. Fabric caught in them, a ripping sound filling the air right as a heavy body slammed into his waist and sent him crashing into the wall then down to the floor.

“Ugh! Oh man, I think some got on my face!!” Squealed a man above him, and R1-13 jerked his head in the winey man’s direction with a snarl, only to regret it as his head throbbed and vertigo set in.

"Maybe you'll mutate." another voice chuckled.

"Oh shut up!"

These men were over-confident, holding him down with gloved hands instead of restraint poles or electric shockers, and to Thirteen’s shame, he realized very quickly why; he really _had_ become weak…

Malnourished and dehydrated, he was hardly a threat. His blood sugar was dropping every time he moved quicker than a crawl, sending his equilibrium to shit. His joints were popping and creaking from the drastic loss of muscle mass, shooting pain through him just as bad as the emptiness that clawed at his stomach.

No doubt they had anticipated this; it was probably why they were there.

He growled and jerked against the hands that pinned him to the filthy floor, the five fingered digits digging into his flesh with every attempt to get free. 

“Ugh, it’s filthy in here.” Came a voice that made his skin crawl. 

R1-13 snarled and jerked again, his body begging him to stop as he felt a muscle in his arm rip. 

“Grail!” 

Yet still, no matter how hard he tried, his strength was simply not there. 

Dr. Grail let out a sigh that sounded close, and Thirteen dared to crack open his eyes. Everything was blurry, the light making his eyes water and sting, but he could see him. Grail. He was there, just a few feet away.

“Why are you always so stubborn?” He heard the Doctor ask, “You know this would all go away if you would just cooperate.”

“Fuck you!” Thirteen spat, letting out a hiss to warn the bastard to keep his distance, but Grail turned away, looking over his cell. 

“Now, where’s that other turtle?”

Thirteen stiffened, his senses spiking until he was able to pick up the subtle sounds of Archimedes letting out some hissing of his own.

“Ah, there it is! And doing surprisingly well, given the circumstances.”

To Thirteen’s horror, the blur he identified as Grail began to walk towards his nest.

_‘No,’_ He thought, his eyes widening, _‘Archimedes, no!’_

“Stay away from him!” His voice cracked as he strained to wrench himself free, but the men were too heavy, their grips only tightening as he struggled.

“Him?” Grail chuckled, and the white and red blur turned, moving away from his still hissing turtle friend. “Oh my, R1-13, so _that’s_ what you’ve been up to.” He tsked, as he walked his way back over to Thirteen, stopping only a few inches away from him. The twisted man bent down, the blur of red and white moving closer. 

“I’m so disappointed in you.” He murmured. “Doctor Asher’s notes described you as displaying above average intelligence. But personifying a turtle? A common pond slider? _Really?_

Let me guess; you’ve been having late night ‘chit-chats’ with it to pass the time? Perhaps even enjoying having some ‘company’? Is that it?”

He chuckled, his blurry head tilting. “I’m surprised at how little knowledge you possess concerning your own species. Allow me to enlighten you:

While your little ‘companion’ there might be able to perceive sounds up to five hundred Hertz underwater, in here that turtle can only detect noises that range between the frequencies of fifty Hertz to one point six Hertz. In other words. It hasn’t heard a single word you’ve said. “

Thirteen let out a growl as Grail leaned closer. He knew the man was trying to bait him, trying to goad him into wasting more precious energy in a verbal battle that would get him nowhere, and he refused to play along.

“It is an animal, it reacts on instinct.” Continued Grail, almost gleefully as he spoke, “You are wasting your sentimentality; needlessly assigning complex emotions to a creature who possesses a brain smaller then my thumbnail.

Something pink rose near his face and Thirteen lunged at it on reflex, snapping his teeth, but missed it as it was snatched away. 

Grail chuckled, tsking again as he pulled something from what Thirteen could only assume was a pocket. “My mistake. It would seem you two have quite a bit in common after all.”

The hands around him gripped tighter as Grail drew near, his pathetic squirming barely budging them when he felt something sharp stick into the crook of his arm. He hissed as it dug around, a needle no doubt searching for a vein.

“Careful, Smith.” Murmured Grail, “Any tighter and I’d think you were afraid of him.”

“It’s killed over sixty people!” Snapped someone above him, but all Grail did was laugh, a cold and uncaring sound that bounced off the glass.

“You have a point, and I’ll admit this is far easier than the bloodbath we typically deal with. This may actually be the first time we’ve been able to get enough of a sample to run a full blood panel without incident.”

Within seconds Thirteen began to feel the anemic effects. The room seemed to turn upside-down, his head growing light as his stomach flipped. Spots danced in and out of his vision and he swallowed, every inch of him growing uncomfortably hot.

“N-no.” He stammered and closed his eyes. “No…” 

He couldn’t form words, could only hear them laughing from above as he began to shake, his body reacting to the blood loss.

Finally the men released their grip on him, yet all he could do was lay there, clinging to the floor in a weak attempt to ground himself and not pass out.

_‘Deep breaths.’_ He told himself, _‘Just calm down and take deep breaths.’_

“Oh, and one more little tidbit before we part-” Called Grail, that sadistic voice almost gleeful as it cut through the air, “When hungry enough, turtles will feed upon carrion and are known to resort to cannibalism. So, one way or another, _ONE_ of you is going to be eaten.”

Thirteen gritted his teeth and spat, “Bastard” as he curled his legs into a fetal position. If Grail responded he didn’t hear him, for all that reached him were his own ragged breaths.

He lost track of how long he laid there, drooling into the floor like a sick animal, begging the world to stop spinning; but after what felt like forever, something nudged into his leg.

At first he ignored it, thinking he was imagining things, when he felt it nudge him again. A gentle prod at his calf came next and he realized it was Archimedes.

Of course it was. What else would be poking around him? 

Thirteen didn’t move, didn’t even acknowledge the smaller reptile’s presence as he hugged his knees, focusing on his breathing.

As he lay there he felt Archimedes move, slowly making his way along R1-13’s side until he managed to find Thirteen’s face.

Cracking an eye, he discovered the room thankfully dark once more, and found the turtle mere inches from his head, watching him closely. Everything swirled and Thirteen groaned, closing his eyes to concentrate on the cool feel of the cement. 

A gentle beak nudged into his cheek for a moment, and when he didn’t move or make any attempt to swat him away, he heard the gentle scrape of a shell against the floor that signified his companion was on the move. 

The faint ‘plat, plat’ of determined webbed footfalls seemed to resonate throughout the room, circling around his head, until the smaller turtle found one of Thirteen’s arms that lay flush to the ground.

Daring to open his eyes again, he found Archimedes; studying him patiently before reaching out his long dark green neck, and rubbed his beak against Donatello’s forearm. 

Donnie swallowed hard, his throat constricting as his chest tightened up. 

The turtle settled down at his side, stretching his little legs out as he rested.

Donatello wasn’t that naïve; he knew perfectly well that Archimedes couldn’t actually hear him let alone comprehend the English language, but that didn’t matter. There was so much more to communication than just words. 

Archimedes was perceptive. He watched Donatello’s movements carefully, using Donnie’s behavioral cues and body language to determine his intent. He could also smell, picking up on Donatello’s pheromones whenever he was upset or stressed in order to gauge his mood…Just like now.

Archimedes had left the safety of the nest to come and find him, to comfort him. Maybe he couldn’t show a wide range of emotions to the same degree that humans or a lot of mutants could, but that didn’t mean that the smaller turtle sitting right beside him in a silent vigil didn’t _feel them…_

Taking in a shaky breath, Donatello mustered up what little strength he had left to whisper, “Thank you.” \

Even if the phrase meant nothing to Archimedes, it still meant a great deal to _him._

_\---------------Day 18, maybe 19…_

It was only a matter of time before Archimedes figured out where the food rations were hidden and went after them. Donatello knew this, he’d prepared for it and even readied himself to one day wake up to find his friend choking, or worse.

Yet when the day came, he didn’t anticipate just how determined Archimedes would be. The problem was, he was clever. Too clever…

It was a fight almost every day; Archimedes may have been overly intelligent compared to your typical Trachemys scripta elegans, but he was still an animal hell bent on survival. Every chance the smaller turtle got, he’d burrow through the straw in search for the tasty morsels and Donatello would have to dig after him and drag him out. 

Every.

Single.

Time.

“No!” He scolded as he pulled the flailing turtle out of the straw for the hundredth time.

“Archimedes, we’ve been over this; you _can’t_ eat without water. And the food…” He glanced at the spot where he’d hidden their dwindling rations. “…We need to be careful with it now. We only have enough for the next day or so. Once it’s gone…”

Donatello’s stomach gurgled and contracted, and he clutched it, doubling over as pain burned through him. His eyes watered as he waited for it to stop, his free hand still hanging onto a flailing Archimedes who was anything but pleased with him.

“It’s going to be ok.” He murmured, tucking his friend into his plastron.

Archimedes gaped at him, small gasping sounds emanating from his open mouth as he ‘voiced’ his displeasure. 

All Donnie could do was whisper reassuringly, “My brothers will come.” He stroked Archimedes’ shell in hopes it would calm the starving turtle. “They’ll find us, and then it’ll be all the worms and algae you can eat, you’ll see…”

It took a while, but eventually, Archimedes stopped struggling, a huff or two the only sound he made as Donatello shifted and plopped down in their nest.

He nestled into the straw bed, biting his lip against the feeling of his stomach collapsing in on itself, and rested his cheek against his friend’s carapace. “You’ll see.” He repeated softly, “You’ll see.”

 

_\------No more food…Starvation is inevitable. It’s day…Shell, I don’t know._

Archimedes had been moving pretty well with his daily food ration, but once the food stopped…so did he.

Donatello hugged his companion tightly, softly stroking the top of his head with one finger, being careful to avoid the poor thing's eyes that were beginning to swell. 

“Just hold on, Archimedes. They’ll come. Leo, Raph, and Mikey- They’ll find us and we’ll be free. Just you wait.”

The turtle in his arms didn’t move, his limbs hanging limply at his side while his beak rested weakly on Donnie’s plastron, his throat undulating to take in Donatello’s scent.

He wished those three would hurry.

 

_\-----My brothers will come. My brothers WILL come…_

Donatello kept Archimedes close, his boney arms cradling the limp turtle. He took in a shuddering breath, every bit of him shaking as he did his best to fight back tears.

His brothers used to always reprimand him for rambling on, citing endless factoids that no one had asked for, like some kind of ‘know-it-all’ in love with the sound of his own voice. 

Admittedly, it was a bad habit, and it often flared up at times most might consider inappropriate. But, it had always been the most effective means for him to deal with stress; a way to anchor himself when his emotions threatened to overwhelm him. Now was no different, and somehow he knew his friend would understand-

“Fu-fun fact.” He choked out. “You’re not as responsive to me anymore, because your eyes are swe-swelling shut. The kibbles contained enough protein to keep you somewhat sustained. But now, your body is sh-shutting down. One symptom of starvation being… Inflammation of the eye-lids.

You were able to make out my movements before. They were ne-necessary for you to make sense of the change in my scent so you could understand what was happening and how I was feeling.”

He took in a long shaky breath, looking anywhere but down at the turtle in his arms. 

“Now that you can’t s-see. You can only tell I’m talking to you when I hold you… f-from, from the vi-vibrations… the vibrations...” His voice broke, his whole-body shuddering as a tear slid down his cheek. 

Ever so slowly he looked down at Archimedes, finding the swollen lids that hid the bright and curious eyes that he’d grown to adore. His little beak was resting against his plastron, a small puff of breath was the only visible sign that his little buddy was still hanging on.

He shook as he brought the listless turtle closer to his chest, gritting his teeth as pain worse than hunger gripped at his heart. “Please.” He cried, his words coming out in a high-pitched whine. “Please just hang in there a little longer, they’re coming, I swear.”

 

_\---- Please come…please…_

Archimedes was still breathing; ragged rasps that gurgled with each exhale.

He was sick, and only growing sicker with every passing day.

Donatello was in no better shape. His body was devouring itself, desperate for proteins to support his vital organs. 

He’d lost all of his fat and muscle, leaving him nothing but skin and bone. The process of withering away was far more excruciating and exhausting than he would have ever imagined. Yet, despite it all, he only had eyes for the turtle wheezing in his arms.

Stroking the smaller shell, he traced the outline of each, dry, flaking scute, searching for the tiny chips and scars he had come to memorize with fondness.

He bent down to nuzzle into the carapace, but the moment his cheek touched it, he felt a pang in his heart accompanied by an awful realization.

He couldn’t do this anymore. He couldn’t just sit there and watch his beloved friend needlessly suffer like this, but that meant…that meant…

“I’m sorry…”

Donnie tried to swallow but couldn’t. He clenched his eyes shut, his grip around the limp turtle tightening. 

He’d been selfish; he needed to make this right. 

“I’m so sorry.” Carefully he reached up, slid Archimedes’ boney neck between his fingers and caressed the leathery skin one last time.

He felt the turtle heave a gargled sigh, his frail form relaxing, completely at ease in the safety of Donnie’s gentle hold…

Donatello closed his eyes, leaning back until his head touched the glass. Try as he might, he couldn’t block out the small crunching sound that filled his cage as he snapped Archimedes’ neck.

“I’m sorry.”

The lifeless form stayed cradled in one arm where he could keep it safe while he dug in the straw. Silent tears slid down his cheeks and dripped onto the dark green shell until he found cement, and then, and only then, did he ever so gently lift the body away from him and lay it against the ground.

He choked as he let go, a fresh wave of tears spilling down his cheeks.

“You didn’t deserve this.” He whispered, curling the turtles head so it looked like he was resting peacefully on his own front leg. “You deserved to see the farmhouse. To see the pond. To meet my brothers.”

His voice failed him as he grabbed a handful of straw. There were no more words, nothing he could say that would make this better as he buried his friend.

“Forgive me.” He choked, his hands beginning to shake, “Please forgive me.”

Once Archimedes was buried in his grave of straw, Donatello crawled away across the cement to the opposite side of his cage. He collapsed there on the cold hard ground, his shoulders shaking and eyes burning with tears and sobbed himself to a fitful sleep.

 

_\-----I don’t care what day it is…What does it matter?_

The stench of decay filled his cage, the odiferous gasses exuding from the tiny corpse rotting under the straw melding in the air with the ammonia of his own urine.

Donatello couldn’t recall the last time he’d had a solid bowel movement; there hadn’t been enough in his system to digest since…He wasn’t sure anymore.

He could no longer move, nor did he want to try. He’d stayed where he’d collapsed the day he’d buried Archimedes, and lost track of time. 

Covered in his own dried secretions, he faded in and out, the dark world blurring in a haze of delirium and verisimilitude.

He’d seen his brothers twice, coming to his aid and dragging him to freedom, only to regain consciousness and discover it’d been a dream. But they were nice dreams, he liked those dreams…

Almost as much as he liked the hallucinations of Archimedes; crawling from the straw looking alive and renewed. 

The turtle had waddled over to him on those cute little webbed feet, determined as always, and nudged him, encouraging him to flop over onto his plastron so he could crawl up onto Donatello’s shell where he belonged.

At first he’d been confused. How did Archimedes get away from Grail and escape to the lair? Only to slowly come back to reality and remember where he was. Why did he always have to remember?

He hated remembering.

Today was no different. 

Donatello laid along the concrete, watching the funny little circles in the glass bounce around.

_‘Why is everyone so quiet?’_ He wondered, watching as Raphael walked by with Archimedes in his arms. _‘When will they let me out? I’ve been good…someone tell Sensei I’ve been good.’_

Something thunked outside his cage and a rare moment of clarity came.

_‘Grail.’_ He thought, _‘I’m still here…right?’_

Where was ‘here’ again? He knew a second ago-

The scrape of a door opening and footsteps filled the room, the lights remaining off. It grew quiet again, but after a moment he heard a creak followed by the rushing of water. 

A blast of cold hit him square in the plastron sending him scooting across the floor about an inch. It scoured his body, spraying off the filth that he’d been covered in.

He remembered where he was again, fat lot of good it did him.

Donatello didn’t move, he couldn’t, he had no strength left even if he wanted to, all he did was shiver uncontrollably...And when his cage opened, he didn’t growl, didn’t even raise his head…

He heard the metallic squeak of a cart rolling in followed by the shuffle of feet. 

It was odd. They never turned on the lights, though he could still see the blurry outlines of…People? Probably people-which ruled out blindness, but they didn’t speak. No jeering or jokes from Grail. Maybe he’d finally had enough?

Gloved hands wrapped around his limbs and lifted him from the ground, forcing him up onto a cold metal slab.

Donatello laid there as they wheeled him away, the slab beneath him slowly growing warmer and quelling his shivers. He focused up at the dark ceiling and the man who was pushing him. Or was it a woman? It might have been Ariel, he wasn’t entirely sure. All these humans were beginning to look the same. 

As he was rolled into a large room he was bombarded by the scent of clean air with the faint hint of industrial cleansers. That was kind of nice. But… why was it still so dark? Was it always this dark?

There was a single dim light in the far corner, and the men around him occasionally flashed a flashlight down at a folder or notebook where they were writing, but other than that, all lights remained off.

_‘Don’t they like lights?’_ He was definitely almost pretty sure he remembered humans needing lights.

Were they trying to make him comfortable on purpose? A dark room to avoid overstimulating his retinas, a warm gurney after a cold soak to bring him back up to temperature…

Or…or was it a final Farwell? Was he such an uncooperative subject that Grail had finally had enough of him? Maybe…maybe he was finally going to be put out of his misery. 

That would be nice.

He laid there waiting, watching the men come and go. What felt like hours went by, or maybe it was minutes, whichever one was supposed to be longer, he couldn’t remember right now. Someone checked on him at one point and stuck him in the arm with a needle hooked up to what was probably…The little baggie with the fluids? Shell, what was the name of that little baggie? 

And why was everyone ignoring him?

They were still there, he could hear them moving about the room, coming and going by the sound of a door that kept clicking open and shut. Open and shut. Open and…shut…

His eyelids felt heavy, fluttering open as he fought to stay awake. 

Open and shut. Open and shut.

They closed…

The sound of squeaking wheels reached him, startling him awake. He was still fatigued but had strength enough to move his eyes and find a cart being pulled up beside him. 

There were tools on it of some kind…A tray of surgical supplies perhaps? When a familiar stench reached his nostrils, one that over powered the chemical smell of the sterile room.

Someone grabbed his mouth and forced it open, a hard plastic pushing past his teeth and downwards. He didn’t have it in him to gag, although he wanted to as it hit the back of his throat and slid down his esophagus. 

He looked up as it was pushed deep into his stomach, his eyes finding the men above him. One was holding the tube in place, a funnel and pump of some kind attached to its other end, while the other man was holding some sort of dark green bowl filled with ground up-

His heart stopped. He blinked, taking another look at the ‘bowl’, and stiffened, his eyes widening in horror. 

_‘No…’_

A red haired figured loomed over him then, the face was blurred, but Donatello could still just make out the lines of a sadistic grin as the man holding the disemboweled shell picked up a handful of rancid meat and stuffed it down the automatic feeder.

_‘No, no!!’_

“I told you...” Grail whispered in a sing-song voice just inches from Donnie’s ear slit.

He lifted a finger and traced the path of the meat, now sliding down the tube, down, down, until it passed Donatello’s lips and disappeared into his throat. 

For the first time, Donatello was too weak to prevent himself from shedding tears in front of that man, and fresh streams ran freely down both cheeks, much to the bastard’s delight.

“…I _always_ get my way.”


	35. Ch. 35

Nine and Five had done a great job. They had found the perfect location to hide everyone; blended in so as not to draw attention, and then grown into a camp that Donatello never imagined would ever be possible in the center of a New York Bay, let alone on an island that some believed to be ‘cursed’.

Nine, having been in the military, knew this place as North Brother Island; 20 acres in the center of the East River that was once a home for World War II Veterans after the closing of Riverside Hospital. Budget cuts and political reform lead to the retired soldiers’ eviction to make way for a new juvenile detention center until the system became corrupted and that too was shut down- abandoning the isle to ruination. 

Now it was a deserted bird sanctuary with crumbling buildings that hadn’t seen anything other than wildlife for decades. 

The Bay Patrol kept casual boaters from nearing the island; its condemned state far too dangerous for tourists or squatters, and thankfully no human was crazy enough to think of travel through the closed-off sewer tunnels to reach it.

On the outside, the world saw the island as it always was to them; falling down and overgrown, but under each broken building a home for the abused and unwanted lay was perfectly hidden away.

There was even electricity, thanks to Five repurposing the old coal plants into solar power stations. The clever canine had even rigged up several desalination stills to provide ample amounts of fresh drinking water. There was some primitive plumbing in the larger buildings, a religious place for those who needed it, a school for old and young, and even a place to train, to work out how to use their new mutated bodies and abilities to defend themselves.

This wasn’t just some Mutant refugee camp, this was a working community. Needless to say, Thirteen was impressed. 

They even had a unique type of security system in place. 

One of the mutants, a telepathic owl that everyone apart from Five called A1, could speak to anyone within a twenty mile radius, its mutation allowing it to see the world in ways no one else could. It was almost as if the bird had the ability to view the whole island from the sky and see exactly what going on at all times, and, shell forbid, if a curious human managed to wander too close to the island, he’d use his gift to redirect the human minds into believing they’d already done what they’d set out to do, and leave the island without ever setting foot on shore.

It was ingenious. 

How Grail had ever managed to contain such a mutant he didn’t know, but at least they were free now, a fact that every mutant who saw him reminded him of.

“I hope you don’t mind their stares.” Murmured Five, his long black and white snout nodding at a group of mutants now quietly entering the broken building that he and the others had paused in front of. “Many of them thought Nine was lying in an attempt to boost morale when he and his group returned and told everyone that you’d escaped that place alive.”

Thirteen hummed thoughtfully, looking up at the shattered windows and crumbling brick with a bit of apprehension. “I wouldn’t have believed it either.” 

There were times he _still_ didn’t believe it, afraid this was all just another dream that he’d wake up from at any moment. But now wasn’t the time for self-pity, he needed to be productive.

“I’ve got to ask, how are the children getting through all this? They seemed practically…normal. Well, for mutants anyway.”

The Border collie nodded and glanced back the way they’d came. “Today was a good day. Most of them do well in a group, it’s when you single them out and isolate them that they revert back to terrified and broken. We’re working on developing a proper school system for the young that’ll help them learn and grow more independent.”

Thirteen faced back to the massive building his friends were leading him towards. “Remaining in a group isn’t such a bad thing.” He said softly, “It’ll prevent them from wanting to wander far from the island.”

The dog mutant nodded, but instead of looking pleased his ears flattened and his furry face fell. “Hiding on this island forever is not realistic. One day they will find us.”

“Hey.” Hissed Nine, “Come on now, my friend, remain pozzitive. We’ve lasssted for several monthsss now without a ssingle insssident.”

The border collie’s ears remained flat despite the encouragement, his eyes flicking on the building R1-13 had been studying almost fearfully.

“Come on.” Said Nine gently, a pleading hint to his tone that Thirteen picked up on immediately, “Join usss tonight. It’ll be good for you.” But all Five did was close his eyes and shake his head. 

“I’m sorry. I’m…I’m not ready.”

Clearing his throat, Five put on a smile, one that was painfully forced, and held out his furry hand to R1-13. “It was a relief to see you truly escaped, and a pleasure to see you again.” 

He gave Thirteen’s hand a good shake, then turned to the big mutant snake, his ear twitching. “Nine.” He sighed. “You’re doing it again. Let me go.”

Both Thirteen and Nine glanced down, finding two thick black coils tightening around Five’s fluffy leg.

“God Damnit.” Nine hissed under his breath before yanking his tale free. “Sstupid thing, I sswear itsss got a mind of itsss own.”

As Nine coiled into himself, embarrassed and cursing under his breath, Five bid them farewell, all the while other mutants slipped in around them to enter the building.

The pair watched Five until he disappeared, giving the big old snake time to gather himself and regain control of his tail.

R1-13 had been warned about R1-09’s _issue_ before he even set foot on the island. He coiled, wrapped around, and hung onto things without even being aware of it. It wasn’t Nine’s fault, it was just a coping mechanism; as big and fearless as he acted, even he was still a victim, and coiling around things made him feel secure and safe, especially if he knew who he was coiling around.

Once he’d collected his composure again, Nine straightened and gestured to the building. “Come on then, letsss go before my tail grabsss on to ssomething elssse.”

Trying his best not to smile, Thirteen followed his grumbling friend as he slithered up the steps. 

“You know,” Said Nine as they stepped inside the dark entrance, “I’m ssurprizzed you didn’t find usss ssooner. I’m even more ssurprizzed you came alone. That wassn’t sssmart.”

Thirteen chuckled darkly, an image of his brothers tackling him to the ground, pinning him there before carrying him away screaming to the shower popping to the forefront of his mind.

“Yeah well, let’s just say that this might be the first and last time I visit. Once they realize I’ve gotten out somehow, they’ll be sure to keep a closer eye on me. I probably won’t be able to get away again.”

Nine stopped in his tracks, his red cobra hood fanning out in alarm as he snapped all four eyes onto the turtle beside him. “What?!” He hissed. “A- are you being held againssst your will? By your own family?!”

Thirteen closed his eyes, wishing more than anything he could say that wasn’t what it sounded like, but he wouldn’t even be able to convince _himself_ of that.

“I guess you can say I am.” Thirteen swallowed and looked back at the steps. “I don’t know if they think they’re protecting me or if they’re trying to protect others _from_ me but… I’ve been having these night terrors and, and I- I just couldn’t deal with it anymore; I had to get away….Had to be around others who…understood.”

The big snake lowered his hood, his four glowing eyes growing sympathetic as he watched him. “I won’t tell you what you should or shouldn’t do.” He said softly with a gentle flick of his forked tongue, “Jussst know, that you, my brother, are alwayzz welcome here, for however long you wish to ssstay.”

Thirteen nodded his appreciation, but looked away. “Thank you.” He said almost stiffly, before he headed deeper into the dark building, forcing Nine to follow and end their conversation.

He had no idea where he was going, and Nine quickly regained the lead, slithering deeper until a dim glow from candle light came into view.

There were many doors that lined the hall they walked down, some of them closed, others open with the faint glow coming from within. 

He paid them little mind as they continued deeper, his mind elsewhere.

The truth was…Nine’s offer was extremely tempting, and he’d be lying to himself if he said he didn’t want to accept. His family didn’t understand, and for whatever reason that he couldn’t even begin to fathom, they thought _he_ was the crazy one for wanting to kill the man sworn to hunt them down and…and…

He sighed inwardly, keeping his composure as he followed Nine past obvious memorial rooms of fallen mutants who’d never made it to freedom. 

It was déjà vu….The Shredder, Grail, there really wasn’t a difference between them. And his family…there wasn’t a difference in how they were treating the two sadistic villains either; ignore them while they run amuck, fight them only when they come for you, and roll with the punches no matter how hard they hit you. Never retaliate, never seek out confrontation. Simply stay quiet, and hope the enemy grows tired and goes away. 

How many times would he and his family have to be hurt before they finally realized that the method of hide and be passive wouldn’t work?

Shell he wanted to stay here, wanted to be around mutants that could empathize with how he felt, who actually knew what it was like to be trapped and at the mercy of beings that lacked compassion or remorse. Here there were kindred spirits, mutants who shared his experiences and his more pro-active opinions ….

But if he stayed here, his family would never give up looking for him. They’d go to the surface, put themselves in danger searching for him, and if Grail didn’t pick them off one by one first, then they’d just end up finding R1-13 and try to drag him back, start a war with Nine and the other mutants, end up hurt, possibly dead-

A soft clearing of someone’s throat pulled him from thought, tugging him back into reality where he found himself standing in the wide doorframe of what looked like an old gymnasium lit by candlelight.   
There were about twenty, maybe thirty mutants sitting on bleachers and the floor, murmuring amongst themselves as they waited. 

“We’ll ssstart shortly.” Hissed Nine from beside him, “You don’t have to, but I alwayzz sstay in the middle sso they have sssomeone to focusss on when they sspeak. I learned that from group therapy yearsss ago; makesss people feel lesss exxpozed, not being the center of attention.”

Nine slithered in, no doubt giving Thirteen the opportunity to either follow, sit among the mutants or watch from the back, but R1-13 wasn’t interested in hiding, nor was he interested in mingling… Without hesitation he followed after the thick bodied serpent.

Eyes followed him as he moved into the center of the room, not judgmental, not cautious or pitying, but curious, maybe even happy to see him as he followed behind Nine. 

“Is that the one who got us out?”

“He really escaped, Nine wasn’t lying…”

“I thought he’d be shorter?”

He couldn’t help but smile as the whispers reached him. It felt so good to hear something other than his family’s fear for him and his mental state. It felt…it felt…well, he couldn’t say’ normal’, he wasn’t certain what ‘normal’ felt like anymore, but it did feel flattering.

As Nine coiled up in the middle of the floor and Thirteen settled down beside him, a few other mutants came in then closed the double doors behind them.

One of them he recognized. It was C12-02, a massive werewolf looking beast with fluffy fur that covered every inch of him. 

“This is everyone for tonight.” He called, checking to be sure the doors were shut, before turning his thick head to scan the crowd as though searching for someone.

“Alright then, everyone, sssettle down.” Called Nine as the werewolf lumbered through the crowd. “I’ll be filling in for P4-79, he’sss helping C1-05 right now with a sssick mutant.” 

He clapped all four of his hands together as he looked around the room, commanding all eyes. 

“I ssee we have a few new facesss today, including one,” He gestured to Thirteen, “Who helped get usss to where we are today.”

Again voices murmured, curious eyes glancing at the turtle dwarfed by the massive cobra beside him.

“Now,” Nine went on, and impressively everyone around him hushed, their attention flicking from Thirteen back to him as though on command. “Lassst time P4 left usss with ssomething to think about. What groundsss you? What makesss you feel ssafe? What makesss you remember that you’re not there, but here?”

The end of Nine’s tail twitched as he spoke, the movement catching R1-13’s eye as it began to inch across the floor.

“Hazz anyone thought of their ansswersss?” Continued Nine, oblivious.

One small mutant the size and shape of a cat, but solid metal, raised a metallic paw and said softly, “I…I count the windows.” His voice was soft, sounding almost hesitant as if he expected to be ridiculed, “There was only one.” He continued when no one tried to stop him, “You know, in that…that place. But here, there’s a ton of windows. When I worry I’m dreaming, I’ll go touch them, count them, and then usually when I hit one hundred, I feel better.”

While the others murmured their encouragement, Thirteen glanced at Nine’s tail again, the determined thing slowly making its way towards him. 

“Music.” Called another mutant, “I turn the radio on. I…I know were not supposed to, but sometimes I just need to hear some music. The reception is fuzzy, but still, it’s something they never had there.”

The thick appendage found Thirteen and began to wrap around him. It was amusing, and R1-13 had to fight to suppress a chuckle as he was slowly engulfed in the oddly warm safety of the big snake’s coils. 

A small, curious part in the back of his mind idly wondered if his friend still possessed a four chambered heart despite his reptilian mutation. There was a time when he’d be utterly fascinated and eager to learn more about the seemingly random attributes that resulted from exposure to mutagen. 

There was also a time when being encircled by a seventeen-foot-long snake would’ve caused him extreme anxiety. Thankfully, this was more like a tight hug than a face grab...

Perhaps this was the true reason why Nine stayed in the center of the room? To keep his tail in check and prevent unsuspecting mutants from being unintentionally constricted. It was a plausible theory if anything.

“Anyone elsss?” Hissed Nine, and Thirteen quickly realized that the room had gone quiet. 

When he looked up, he found some uneasily glancing around at their fellow mutants as though too afraid or ashamed to speak. 

It killed him to see. 

Thirteen coughed into his fist, and all eyes flicked onto him.

Nine turned and watched him as well, and as they met each other’s gaze, R1-13 felt the scaly lengths around him tense as the big snake realized what he’d done.

“Showers.” He said softly, “Whenever I feel like the world is slipping away and that I might be in a dream, I find the shower and turn it on as hot as it will go. They never gave us warm water, ever, so when I let that heat sink into my body, I remember that I’m free.”

Nine stared at him for moment before he seemed to realize their position and went to unwrap himself, but Thirteen raised a hand from the coils and stopped him. “Really Nine, I’m ok. It’s better if you just leave it. Like you said, your tail has a mind of its own, and I have a feeling this is just going to keep happening.”

A few mutants in the crowd chuckled while Nine grumbled under his breath and shook his head, begrudgingly leaving Thirteen wrapped up tight in his smooth scales.

“Apparently my backsside likesss to wrap around people without permisssion.” Hissed Nine, and more mutants laughed, “This is ssuppozzedly my coping ssstrategy, but persssonally I’m not sso sure.” The large snake turned to the others, his forked tongue flicking at the air.

“When I get the feeling that I may be back in a cage. I tassste the air and pick out, then identify every ssingle tassste that I can. It takesss my mind off thingsss, bringsss me back to where we all are. Free, and ssafe.”

The others looked around still chuckling and giggling amongst themselves, the fear and unease gone from many to be replaced with a cautious optimism. 

One by one they began to open up, sharing their coping strategies, helping others think of ways to remain calm when they became distressed, and even exchanged positive moments that they’d been experiencing; one mutant was even able to call themselves by their own name without flinching.

It was going rather well, until Nine changed the subject of discussion, and a far darker mood fell among them all.

Rape. Murder. Torture in the name of science, and forced pregnancy were topics that ran amuck. Mutants who couldn’t handle what had happened to them brought up thoughts of suicide, thoughts which Thirteen was relieved to hear were squashed quickly by other teary eyed friends who’d become as close as family to one another.

All of it was heartbreaking, but what got to Thirteen the most, was when the mutant who had brought him to the island, A4-36, shared the story of how she took her own child’s life to spare her from the torture Grail had in store. She was so distraught, so upset with herself for what she’d done that he couldn’t just let her suffer…

So he held his head high and opened up, told them how he felt, told them all not to feel ashamed, to regret nothing. It was those humans who should carry regret and shame for what they’d forced upon their _subjects_ , not them.

He’d been filled with self-doubt since his brothers brought him back to the lair, but now, here in this place among his fellow escapees, offering them reassurances…it was empowering.   
Until one of them asked a question he’d been dreading…

“You said ‘things’ that you regret. Was there something, I mean, other than what happened to Williams?” 

Betrayed by his own grammar; he’d just _had_ to use a plural, didn’t he? His face fell, the color slowly draining from his cheeks as he inwardly cursed his impulsive inclination towards accuracy.  
What the shell was he supposed to say now?

He’d murdered children; weaponized infants and embryos, created from his stolen DNA, who would grow to become mindless killing machines with zero will of their own… It was justified. Wasn’t it? He’d had no choice… Right?

He felt Nine’s coils tighten and heard his friend whisper just loud enough for him alone to hear. “No one here will judge you. I promisss.”

After a moment, he nodded, swallowing hard and spoke. “There was…something I really didn’t want to do, but at the same time it was also something that I HAD to do, even though I’m still not sure it was the right thing to do- After all the experiments, probing, and violence, I didn’t think there was anything left that could shake me…”

He paused, taking a deep breath to calm himself. These mutants would understand, if A4-36, the bird mutant woman could share her story of ending the pain of her own child that she’d held and loved, without scrutiny, then surely they’d have some sympathy for his unique situation.

“…But, there is one thing that still haunts me more than anything else. It goes against everything that I was ever taught, everything that I ever believed in. It’s done, nothing will change that, and I know I have to come to terms with it eventually but… I’m not so sure that I can forgive myself. I saved lives by taking lives. That’s what I keep telling myself. Because Grail had found a way to-”

A loud thud from above cut him off, his gaze snapping to a skylight in the ceiling. Everyone around him ducked, flight-or-fight instinct kicking in as claws and teeth were brandished.

“Eazzy, eazzzy everyone.” Called Nine to a growling and whimpering crowd. “It’sss probably jussst B45-06 and hisss training classss working on sstealth training.”

Another thud sounded, a crash and a bang scraping across the ceiling as quickly as the noise came. If Thirteen didn’t know any better, he’d say there was an actual fight going on.

“Nine…” He began uneasily, when a shadow loomed over the glass, and a green and black blur came crashing through it.

Many in the crowd screamed, their panicked faces flashing as they scrambled out of the way as it and shards of glass fell.

“We’re under attack! Run!” Someone screeched. 

R1-13 was about to spring towards whatever or whoever it was, when another blur of something orange flew through the broken glass and snatched hold of what was falling.

Like a bungee cord the orange thing dangled from the broken window, the green and black somethings held tight in its gooey clutches.

“Let go of me you poor excuse for silly putty!” Snarled a voice, and immediately R1-13 knew exactly who it was.

“Orokana totsuzenhenitai!” A second familiar voice shouted, and Thirteen sighed and closed his eyes.

“It’s ok everyone!” He called above the panic, raising an arm to gain their attention, “I know them. It’s just my brother and my, well, _technically_ my sister. We are not under attack, I repeat, we are _not_ under attack.”

“You’re… Japanezz?” Hissed Nine ever so softly, and when Thirteen looked back at his friend, he found the big snake frozen in place, his four glowing eyes fixed on his brother and Karai. 

“It’s a human!” Screamed someone from the crowd and a few mutants bolted for the door while others bared their claws and teeth and advanced on his family.

He tried to get up, but Nine’s coils only tightened on reflex. “We- I mean, no. _I’m_ not; my father and sister are, but my brothers and I are adopted.” Giving up on trying to stand, Thirteen faced the Kunnoichi still dangling upside down from her orange silly putty string and snapped. “Karai, show them you’re _one of us._ ”

“How? By mounting heads on spikes, or will blowing up a subway station be enough?” She retorted, and Thirteen gritted his teeth, his fists clenching.

“Now is not the time to be a smart ass.” He snarled at her, “You’re in a room full of survivors of experimentation by _human_ hands, now change before things get any worse!”

The mutants from the crowd were glaring at his family as they were lowered slowly to the ground, murder in their eyes as they watched the human girl.

He tried to struggle free again, but Nine still had him wrapped up tight, all four eyes transfixed on Raph and Karai like he wanted to strike them down right then and there.

“Nine!” He snapped at him, but Nine barely budged, his tongue flicking in and out to taste the air. A faint murmur coming from him as he cautiously watched as the bound turtle and girl were lowered closer to the mutant mob that had gathered.

“You never mentioned they were Japsss…” 

Karai, finally seeing reason as they neared but inches from the tallest mutant in the crowd below them, rolled her eyes then snapped her mouth in a violent hiss, exposing long pointed teeth and lashing forked tongue, the pupils of her eyes contracted to reptilian slits.

“Touch me and I’ll give you sssomething to _truly_ be afraid of!” She hissed as Raphael bucked and writhed in the gooey orange mass.

Thankfully the crowd began to back down the moment they realized Karai was also a mutant… Raphael on the other hand, was still intent on being seen as a threat.

“I’m gonna turn you into the world’s ugliest pair of boots if you don’t let my brother go right now!”

Assumingly, Raphael had directed that remark towards the snake currently wrapped around Thirteen’s body. He could only assume because he wasn’t watching his brother or adoptive sister at the moment, something more concerning had caught his interest.

Nine was ridged, hood flared and all four eyes fixed on Raph and Karai like he’d seen a ghost, his tongue flicking repeatedly to taste the air around him; he was trying to keep himself together, and no doubt fighting a panic attack.

Gently, he touched one of the four thick arms of his friend. “Nine?” He called again, this time calm but firm, and thankfully the black cobra responded this time. 

He jumped and blinked, looking back at R1-13 in daze. “I-sssorry.” He muttered as he seemed to realize just where he was, “Jusst…The war-” He groaned and rubbed at his face for a moment with two of his hands, his remaining arms crossing protectively over his own torso before giving his head a good shake to relax his hood. 

He rose up tall again, this time he looking more like himself and as fearless as ever as he faced the crowd. He raised all four arms, waving them at the mutants in the room to signal them to calm down; although as he eased their fears, Thirteen’s mind was making a mental note to ask his buddy exactly _which_ war it was that he’d fought in. 

“B45, it’sss alright, they’re friendsss. Let them go.” 

The orange goo that held his brother and Karai in place shivered then receded, quickly dropping the angry turtle and the furious kunoichi. 

Both of them landed on their feet, but the moment Raphael touched the ground he took off running straight for Nine.

With the look of an incensed bull, the red banded turtle let out a snarl. “Let him go, four arms!” Then reached for his Sais. Thirteen was ready to spring and stop the stupid idiot, when the coils around him quickly unwound and moved away.

“He isss fine.” Hissed Nine as Raphael quickly put himself between Thirteen and him. “And if you had come through the normal entryway like everyone elsss , thiss messs could have been avoided, and we’d sstill have a sskylight.”

Raphael’s grip on his weapons tightened, but to Thirteen’s relief, Nine just ignored the angry turtle and turned his back on him, instead facing the worked up mutants. 

“I’m sssorry for the ssscare! R1-13’ss family is jussst a little shy. It wazz all a missunderssstanding.” Called Nine, but Thirteen was hardly paying attention to him; his eyes were on Raph, still glaring at Nine, and Karai now walking towards them.

He grabbed the bigger turtle by the arm and ripped him around, his anger barely contained at what the moron had almost done. 

“You could’ve been killed.” He hissed through gritted teeth, “What the shell were you thinking?!”

Raph must not have expected the grip, for he jumped a little in surprise and glanced from Thirteen’s hand back up to him. “What did you expect?” He finally snapped, wrenching his arm free, “You were suspicious as fuck! You’re just lucky we didn’t stop to wake up the others before we followed your dumb ass out here!”

“What Raphael is trying to say,” Sighed Karai, coming to a stop beside them, her hand on her hip, “Is that you’re not in your right mind, he’s worried about you because you want to murder people, and we wanted to make sure you didn’t do anything stupid. You know, like run off to see your homicidal friends who, oh I don’t know, might be holding our own friends hostage in a makeshift cell in the basement of one of their buildings?”

Donnie scoffed at her, and although he was surprised and a bit relived to hear Leo and Mikey weren’t about to jump to his unneeded rescue as well with their human friends in tow, he was a bit insulted that they thought he’d ever do something without first thinking it through. 

“What the shell are you talking about? I’m perfectly sane and no one you know is on this island, only mutants who escaped Grail’s facility are here.” 

His brother let out a snort and pointed a Sai at Nine, his voice low but angry. “How about the Mutanimals, Donnie? You know, our _friends?_ That asshole has Slash and the others locked up tight in a sound proof room. Go on and ask him, I bet he denies it.”

“No.” Said Karai, quickly stepping in, “Use your brain, if you mention what we know they could turn on us and we’ll end up locked up right along side them. For now let’s just-“

Rolling his eyes, R1-13 side stepped them both and marched across the room, ignoring the frustrated snap for him to return.

“Nine!” He called, the big snake turning to find him as he walked up. “Did you capture some mutants and lock them in a makeshift prison?” 

An orange blobby mutant shaped like a man, craned his head around Nine and nodded. “Oh, _them_. Yeah they were a pain in the ass to get here, let me tell you!”

“Thank you, B45.” Hissed Nine over him, and quickly the mutant grew quiet. “I think you should return to your sstudentsss and reward them, their sstealth lessonsss paid off today.”

The goo-man grinned and nodded again, “Right-o!” Before stretching up into the air and returning to the skylight as if he were made of rubber.

“He’ss a talker.” Nine explained, “If you don’t sset him on tasssk he’ll sstand there and jabber for hoursss; chat your ear right off. But to ansswer your question, yesss, yesss we do. Why?”

“Ah-HA!” Yelled a voice in Thirteen’s ear, one that made him nearly jump out of his shell. “I knew you were evil!”

“Raph, for the love of- Will you stop it?!” Donnie snarled, spinning to face his brother who was still clutching his weapons as though itching to stab them into Nine’s black scaly hide. 

Nine however didn’t seem bothered one ioda, at least…not with Raph. He kept his distance from Raphael, but it wasn’t the angry turtle who he seemed to be eyeing warily; It was Karai. Every step she made every glance she gave, he seemed to be watching.

“It’sss alright, Thirteen, he-” Nine began, but Raphael interrupted with a particularly nasty snarl.

“He has a fucking name, _use it!_ ”

Having had about enough, R1-13 spun and jabbed at the pressure point just below Raphael’s jaw, right where Leo had taught him; it was a technique he had never dared use on one of his brothers before, but it successfully silenced Raph as well as sent him to the floor so fast Donnie had to check to be sure his brother was still breathing. 

As he leaned over him, sure that Raphael was still sucking in air, he narrowed his eyes and hissed under his breath. “Raph, you’re going to end up triggering someone’s anxiety and causing another mob scene. Now stop trying to pick a fight with Nine!” He growled the words as he leaned over his brother, the larger turtle now struggling just to sit up as he choked.

“Your…name…” He managed to force out and Thirteen nodded, quietly reminding himself that it wasn’t fair to resent his brother for something he simply didn’t understand.

He would just have to spell it out for the meathead.

“When we used our names at that place, hundreds of volts of electricity were sent coursing through our bodies. Our names,” He held up his scared-up forearm, the one where he’d cut out the numbers from his own flesh, “Were our identity, and for many mutants here that’s all they have and all they know. Now stop. Trying. To. Screw. With. That.”

Raph’s green eyes widened as Thirteen stared him down, possibly in shock that someone other than Splinter or Leonardo had finally dared to put him in his place. 

Once satisfied that Raphael was finally going to listen, he leaned up and looked back at R1-09. “You were saying?”

Instead of explaining, Nine raised one of his four arms and gestured to the door. “I’ll show you insstead. Pleaze, follow me.”

Nine began to slither for the door, and once Thirteen was sure his brother could walk and that Karai wasn’t about to slit anyone’s throat or cause mass hysteria, he followed, gesturing for the others to do the same.

To his relief, Raph and Karai didn’t fight him, or Nine, and followed willingly, although they did bend their heads together and whisper something that he didn’t quite catch; he just hoped they weren’t about to do something stupid… Well, more stupid than what they’d already done, anyway.

As he said he would, Nine brought them to one of the buildings set up beside Five’s workshop, one that Thirteen had seen from a distance but had assumed was just another living space. He’d been very wrong.

The first few floors were nothing but simple cells, meant to contain wild and animalistic mutants too crazed by either trauma or unstable mutations to allow into their civilization, but too vicious to release upon the world- better here than under Grail’s knife.

Some cells were sadly also rooms, places for those who had developed severe Agoraphobia to feel safe and stay comfortable until one day they could walk among their fellow refugees. But the other floors were definitely prisons with solid doors and thick steel, some soundproof and others reinforced to withstand even the largest of mutants.

Down they went, each floor growing more and more sophisticated until they reached the very bottom where they were met with a thick soundproof door.

“We keep the mosst dangerousss mutantsss in here.” Explained Nine, giving the door a couple of knocks that was obviously a code to the others on the opposite side. “Theze are the one’sss we’ve found working for the hunters or directly with Grail.” 

R1-13’s heart clenched. “Mutants?” He repeated, fighting to keep the fear from his voice. Had Grail finally found a way to control them to do his bidding?

A loud screech filled the room as a heavy lock was turned within the door by those on the other side.

“Ssadly, yesss. Ssome appear ignorant to the true purposss of their missionsss, but othersss we’ve witnesssed being _paid_ for every mutant they turn over.”

Thirteen sighed in relief, “So they’re not being mind-controlled.”

The thought of fellow mutants betraying their own kind to unspeakable tortures in exchange for cash was repulsive, but willing traitors was still a better alternative than mindless soldiers devoid of free-will.

A thick leathery hand with three inch claws wrapped around the doors edge as it creaked open, a big yellow eye peering out through the gap as though to confirm who it was requesting access. 

“Mind-controlled? I don’t think ssso,” Hissed Nine, giving the mutant on the other side a wave, “They seem more cluelessss and ssstubborn than brainwashed.”

“Thank shell for that.” Murmured Thirteen under his breath, and the door opened the rest of the way.

He was about to walk in when Raphael caught hold of his arm. “Hey-“ His brother began, but Thirteen flinched, pulling out of the grip with a hesitant growl. 

“Stop that!” He snapped at him, “You know I hate it when you do that.”

Raphael however did not look understanding, in fact he looked livid. His green eyes were narrowed, his lips pursing bitterly as he glared up at R1-13 as though he wanted to punch him… Sadly, R1-13 wasn’t at all surprised, Raph was still convinced he was going to go mad and kill their family in their sleep…Why was he bothering contemplating going back to lair again?

Letting out a huff Thirteen turned his shell on him and followed Nine into the room. Raphael and Karai were slower to follow, but at that point the pair could’ve run off to tell Leonardo and the others and he really wouldn’t care; they only wanted him under lock and key to protect the humans anyway, not because they gave a damn about _him…_

Suddenly not feelings as confident as before, Thirteen swallowed and struggled to keep it from showing…maybe staying on the island really was in his best interest? Though as he stepped into the room, casually peering around at its thick soundproof cells, he found himself face to face with the scowling, bitter face of one of his most annoying acquaintances…Dr. Rockwell.

“Oh shell.” He murmured, Rockwell perking up with a smug look of satisfaction as he noticed R1-13. “You really do have our friends.”

“See? I told you,” Growled Raphael from the door frame, “But what do I know? I’m just the idiot brother interrupting your playtime with your psycho pals who might just, oh I don’t know, _lock us up for discovering their evil plans!_ ” 

Completely ignoring his raving brother, Thirteen glanced into the other cells, finding Slash, Leatherhead…No Mondo?

“How were they involved?” He asked, turning back to Nine, and that’s when he saw _her_ ; a monstrous hulking beast of a turtle, hunched in the corner of the room with her head bent so it wouldn’t hit the ceiling. 

Her shell was dark and spikey almost like Slash’s, with thick scaly arms and sharp dagger-like claws. She had a jagged beak and a pair of old tired eyes that looked meaner than Tigerclaw when they snatched Karai out from under his nose.

But what R1-13 noticed and fixated on wasn’t any of those massive snapping turtle features, but her tail; a long spiked appendage that lay curled around her feat and out of the way, one that that brought memories of a small fetus sitting in a collection jar…

“They’ve been helping track usss.” Murmured Nine, “Getting in the way of our missionsss and nearly getting ssome of our team captured. They work for ssome government agency called the E.P.F-“

“Earth Protection Force.” Interrupted Thirteen, looking away from the turtle and back to Nine. “The Kraang, the beings who created us with the glowing green ooze, are aliens. The Utrom are the good version of the Kraang. They’re the ones who formed the EPF and put it together to help protect the earth and try to undo the damage the Kraang have done. They probably don’t know anything about Grail and think you’re just renegade mutants.”

“Protect?” Whispered a soft voice, and Thirteen found himself curiously turning around back to the Snapper guardswoman, wondering how such a huge turtle could possibly have such a soft spoken voice. “They’re not doing a very good job. There helping those monsters.”

Out from behind the scowling hulk of a turtle peered a skull, a familiar looking skull with empty sockets and a blobby green body that reminded him of Timothy. 

“They took that poor gecko boy.” She continued, “Just gave him to those horrible men.”

Thirteen’s heart sank. “Mondo…” He whispered, turning to Nine, hoping he’d contradict her, but Nine was barely paying him any mind as he glared suspiciously at Karai.

Poor Jason… Mikey was going to be devastated!

“Did…did you ever find ZC12-01?” He heard the petite mutant ask, and Thirteen had to look back and meet her empty gaze. He remembered her now.

“Yes.” He said softly. “I’m sorry, but he didn’t make it.”

As the blobby mutant hung her head, he turned back to Nine, catching a deep rumble of an old woman’s voice whisper “It’ll be alright child, he’s no longuh in pain.”

Karai was returning the snake’s stare while Raphael growled at him through clenched teeth, no doubt convinced that the bitter glare was for _him_ instead of the Kunoichi. Poor Nine was entranced on Karai like he expected to be attacked at any moment.

“Nine!” He snapped, and quickly his friend fell out of his trance and gave his head a shake. “I’m sorry my friends gave you such trouble.” Thirteen continued, “I’ll make sure they’re well informed of what’s happening and make them stop interfering. I’ll also get to the bottom of the E.P.F. We know Bishop; the alien in charge. In the meantime, the Mighty Mutanimals can go free.”

“No.” Said Nine almost immediately and Thirteen blinked. 

“Wait, what?”

“No.” The big snake repeated, all four eyes as serious as ever. “I trussst you with my life R1-13, but theze mutantsss have nearly exposssed usss sseveral timesss. It took far too long to catch them, and even longer to convince the other mutantsss here that we shouldn’t jusst kill them the moment we had them.”

“I fucking told you so.” Grumbled Raphael from the doorframe and Thirteen closed his eyes; he was never going to hear the end of this…

“Watch your mouth, young man, or I’ll wash it out wit’ soap!” Growled the old turtle hunched up against the ceiling, and of course Raphael just _had_ to reply.

“Oh golly gosh gee, I’m so sorry, I sure wouldn’t want to offend the nutjobs HOLDING MY FRIENDS HOSTAGE!!”

“ _Thank_ you, Raphael.” Said Thirteen loudly, not even giving him a glance as he sighed and looked back at Nine. He pinched the bridge between his eyes and asked. “Ok, how about some sort of a compromise?” 

“Like?” Hissed Nine, sounding genuinely curious. “You know I won’t jeopardize the mutantsss who live here.”

“You let them out of the cells, but they remain here on the island. Rockwell is psychic, if he was going to turn you over to the E.P.F. then he would’ve done it already.”

But again Nine shook his head. “We are aware of hisss abilitiesss, it waz why we had such a hard time out-ssmarting them. B9-67,” He gestured to the blobby-skull mutant, “Hazz a unique ability to nullify all psychic abilitiesss. He’sss not keeping the E.P.F. in the dark, we’re jussst clever.”

_‘Well damn.’_ Thought Thirteen, glancing back at B9-67, still hiding behind the big turtle woman like a shy child behind a parent. 

“They’ve attempted to essscape sseveral timesss.” Continued Nine, and the angry turtle woman nodded.

“Dat’s why _I’m_ here.” She murmured, lifting a thick finger to point at Rockwell. “Dat one is da wawhst trouble makuh.”

A dull thump and muffled banging interrupted her, as a heavy weight threw itself against one of the sound proof doors.

Thirteen could just make out the strained roar of “Kraaaang!!!” as Leatherhead no doubt had one of his violent episodes. 

For the first time Thirteen found himself sympathetic with the large croc. Leatherhead had been a victim of experimentation and torture at the tentacles of the Kraang; being in that cage must’ve been triggering flashbacks something fierce. 

“Rockwell’s always been a self-important jerk.” He sighed, “But Leatherhead and Slash, they’re believe in doing what’s right. They can’t be paid off. I’m begging you Nine, listen to me when I tell you that by keeping Leatherhead, _especially_ Leatherhead,” He pointed at the crocodilian’s door to emphasize his point, “Locked up makes you no better than them. He’s just like us and needs to be out.”

Nine hissed in frustration and rubbed his serpentine face into one of his dark hands. “If they essscape, if they give away our location-“

“They _won’t_. Because if they do that then they’ll also be giving away _my_ position, and jeopardizing my family who will no doubt be trying to prevent me from staying here.”

“Wait, what?!” He heard Raphael snap, but Thirteen just continued.

“They’d never do that. They’re far too bonded to us and our other friends to put their lives at risk.”

“You’re staying?!”

Again Nine sighed, also ignoring Raphael’s outburst as he mulled things over in his mind.

“You can’t stay here with him!! I mean them! You can’t stay here with _them!_ ”

“Fine.” The mutant snake finally murmured, “Jussst the turtle and the gator, but they sstay here on the island and they sleep in their cellsss, no exceptionssss. They have to work like the resst of usss, not running a bed and breakfassst, here. You take full ressponsssibility for them if they turn on usss. We’ll let them out tomorrow when everyone hazz had time to ssettle down.”

Grateful to be getting anywhere, Thirteen nodded. “Agreed.” He said quickly, “I promise they won’t cause any more trouble.”

The grumpy old turtle snorted her skepticism from behind him, but Nine seemed to be calmer, maybe even grateful that they could come to some kind of a compromise. 

“Are you kidding me?!” Snapped Raphael from the door frame, “So they’re going to be your slaves?! What the shell, Donnie?!”

Nine flinched a little at the use of Thirteen’s name, an ingrained response from when saying it aloud meant instant pain.

He fixed his brother with a glare, about ready to tell him off and escort him to the nearest sewer drain himself, when Karai opened her mouth and asked an interesting question.

“Hey four arms, explain this to me; why would you think that the Mutanimals, or ANY mutant for that matter, would be working for people who make it their goal in life to turn mutants into walking pin cushions?”

The big snake turned, his hood flaring just a little at the sight of the Kunoichi. He watched her, studying her, then narrowed his eyes and hissed, “Becuz of _her_.”

He pointed to an unlit cell at the back of the room, one that Thirteen hadn’t paid any attention to. 

“She is a mutant, one that’sss been hunting down mutantsss one by one and perssonally handing them over to the huntersss. She’sss a sscorpion, deadly from all angles. We have yet to find an antidote for her venom, and nearly lossst three of our besst sscoutsss to her. Capturing her wazz…” He stopped, his jaw working side to side, then hissed, “Pure dumb luck. She attempted to kill ssomeone we had been watching, she dropped her guard and we were able to grab them both.”

Raphael scowled at him, his emerald eyes narrowed in disgust. “So how many prisoners do you have exactly?”

“One too many.” He replied, and Thirteen had to applaud the big snake for keeping his composure so well while Raphael attempted to kill him with dirty looks alone. “Grail hazz her convinced that he’sss the only way to a cure, that the experimentsss are necessssary to find a way to make usss human again. That’sss why she’sss been doing hiz dirty work. I fear that he may have othersss jusst like her convinced of the sssame.”

R1-13 wrinkled his nose in disgust. “Wha- are you serious?” He snapped, looking back at the door where he could just make out a hint of dark burgundy red as who ever was in there shifted around. “Does she understand what Grail has done? What he’s _still_ doing? He doesn’t care about anything but money, and a cure would dry up his money source. Besides, like I’ve told you before, I’ve already discovered the formula for a retro-mutagen, I just need-” A flash of beakers and microscopes, blood covered scalpels and screams of agony went through his mind and he cringed, a shudder going up his spine.

“…Need to be able to so much as look at my lab door without flashbacks.”

“Perhapsss ssince you’re sstaying you can try working with Five?” Suggested Nine, “Ssince she only sseemsss to care about herssself, if you can overcome thisss fear of yoursss, perhapsss we can use the promisss of the retro-whatever you called it, azz incentive to convince her to give up Grail’ss location.”

“He’s _not_ staying!”

“Hell only knowsss how many other mutantsss they have working with the government.” Continued Nine, and this time Thirteen shook his head, growing a little annoyed. 

“No, come on, Nine. I already told you that it has to be a misunderstanding, the E.P.F. are the _good_ guys. I’ll prove it too, I’ll contact Bishop and get this straightened out.” 

Nine however did not look convinced, not in the least bit. 

“I know how theez thingsss work” He hissed calmly, “The E.P.F. is apart of the government and military. No matter what fancy title they carry or pretty wordtts they spout, they will alwayz obey those of higher rank, regardlessss of what those ordersss are. They can’t be trusssted. I mean, come on brother-

“He’s not your damn brother!” 

“-who do you think Grail is weaponizing mutantsss for? Theez are just the gruntsss, cannon fodder at bessst. Trussst me, I’ve been the one lead to sslaughter in the passst, and felt the full ssting of the higher ups when they decided our usefulnessss wazz over. You need to be careful who you trussst,” His head turned ever so slightly, eyeing Raphael and Karai still standing in the doorframe. “Even if they are your friendsss.”

Raph took a threatening step towards him, shaking with anger at having been blatantly ignored and ready to seek out retribution when a slow deliberate clap froze him in place.

Karai slipped past the red banded turtle, still clapping sarcastically. 

“Thank you so much for sharing your all-knowing wisdom that’s granted you the right to be judge, jury and executioner. Now if you’ll excuse me, this internment camp is starting to make my skin crawl.” Her cheeks shifted momentarily from fair yellow beige to a pale scaly white as though to emphasize her point. “So unless you plan on locking me in a cage as well, I’m leaving. Now.”

She turned to leave, Nine’s tongue flicking as she marched off. “Shame they don’t have a camp for your kind anymore.” He growled, barely loud enough for anyone to hear, but Karai definitely did.

“Bite me, konoyarou!” She snapped as she left, raising a finger over her shoulder to show him just where he could go.

Nine growled, but didn’t move to follow, his whole body tense and tongue flicking.

Thirteen moved to remind the big snake just where he was, his suspicions practically confirmed, when an emerald three-fingered hand latched around his wrist and yanked him towards the door. “Come on Donnie, we’re getting out of here!” 

If he hadn't been so furious at that moment, he would've taken the time to appreciate the slack-jawed indignation that appeared on Rockwells face as Raph dragged him out the door, but he was, and he didn't... Raphael had managed to pull him about as far as through the open door when Thirteen managed to wrench his arm free.

“Will you stop grabbing me!” He snapped at him, planting his feet and refusing to move any further, “And I’m _not_ leaving. I thought I already made that clear.”

Raphael whipped around and faced him, glaring up at him despite their height difference. “Yes you _are._ ” He growled right back, “Your home is in the lair, with us, your family. Not these mutant terrorists who still might just try to lock us up any second now! Now let’s go!”

But Thirteen stood his ground, straightening and squaring his shoulders in a way he hoped would show he meant what he was about to say. “No.” He said firmly. “Look at what these mutants have built-“

“A prison?”

“-A safe place for them to hide and live in peace.” Thirteen continued over him, “They’ve built a community where mutants like us can mingle and live, grow food, feel safe. They’re not dangerous or monsters; they’re _people_ , and they’re trying to survive and hold onto some semblance of a life while being hunted and persecuted! They can’t just ignore the fact that Grail is still actively hunting down mutants, so they’re protecting themselves and trying to keep others safe as well!.”

“Yeah, by blowing up subway stations and anyone who gets in their way. They’re no better than Shredder!”

Thirteen growled and clenched his fists, fixing his brother with a cold hard stare. “Then neither am I.” 

He turned his shell to him, muttering under his breath as he walked back towards Nine. “I don’t know why I even bother. You don’t understand…”

“Donnie, wait. I…” 

Against his better judgement, Thirteen paused in the doorframe. 

“I get what you’re saying bro, really… I know how it feels to be so angry that you want to bash heads against cement until they don’t get up again. But Splinter raised us to know that some lines just shouldn’t be crossed.”

Thirteen’s eyes narrowed and he bit his tongue… _‘What Splinter says and does are two completely different things…’_

“You might not think I do, but I do feel bad.” Continued Raph, “Especially for the kids. I mean, no one deserves what those people did to all of you, but just listening to that lady talking about what she did to her own daughter…” 

The sincerity in his brother’s tone was surprising. He turned ever so slightly to look back, and found Raphael watching him, looking sad.

“Those people are messed up freaks who need to be stopped, and if there was a way to do that besides killing people and having you stay here, then I’d be all for it.”

Thirteen turned to face him completely, searching him for any sign of a lie. “But…You, you act like _I’m_ a terrorist half of the time. Why would you care where I stayed? And why would you even want to help?”

Raph’s gaze softened, exposing a rare side of vulnerability that Thirteen had never seen in him before.

“Because I love you, Donatello. Geez, you should know that by now. I’m worried as shell about you all the time. I can’t sleep, I can’t think. If I’d have known you’d been drugged when you attacked April and the others, I’d never have…” Raph swallowed as he and Thirteen both recalled the night the hothead had tossed him haphazardly into the shower, dosing him with ice water before pinning him by the neck to the cold tile floor.

It wasn’t a proud moment for either of them.

“…I trust you with my life, Donnie, like I always have, now please, just try and trust me.”

R1-13’s chest swelled with emotion and he smiled a real smile that Raphael returned. He didn’t hate him after all, at least that’s what he was saying anyway, if he was lying he was being extremely convincing.

“You mean it?” Thirteen murmured, unable to stop himself from questioning it, “All of it? Even helping me- helping all of us?”

Without hesitation, Raphael nodded. “Absolutely.”

“Glad to hear it.”

Movement shifted out of the corner of Thirteen’s eye as two pairs of glowing red eyes loomed out from behind him and he stepped aside to allow Nine to slither through the door frame. 

“We could use all the help we can get.” He hissed, and Raphael’s face fell back into a vicious scowl. 

The red banded turtle’s fists clenched. “Sonuva- can’t I have a normal conversation with my brother without you eavesdropping and trying to slither into it?! Get lost!”

With amazing patience, Nine didn’t react, simply nodded to Raphael and hissed, “Wouldn’t call it eavesssdropping You’re in a tunnel, one that carriezz ssound rather well. The three of usss could hear every word even when you weren’t sscreaming.” 

Raphael ground his jaw side to side so hard it was a wonder his molars didn’t crack while Thirteen snorted in amusement from beside him.

“Fine.” Growled Raph through his teeth, “As long as my brother comes home every night, I’ll help you.”

“It’ssss a deal.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "All my friends are heathens, take it slow  
> Wait for them to ask you who you know  
> Please don't make any sudden moves  
> You don't know the half of the abuse" ~ Twenty One Pilots


	36. Ch. 36

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning- torture scene.

Sirens blared overhead, red lights flashing against the pristine white walls as a scalpel slashed through the air. Blood flew and splattered the tile, hitting the walls as a heavy body thudded to the floor with a violent twitch.

R1-13 scrambled, his feet slipping in the red coagulating mess and struggled back to his feet. He’d lost track of how many he’d killed, his determination to get to freedom the only thing keeping him going.

Grail had made a mistake. Finally. He’d slipped up, he’d assumed Thirteen had been unconscious when he’d wheeled him through the halls, assumed that he hadn’t paid attention to the man who’d punched in the code, and assumed that he hadn’t made out exactly what lay beyond that cold steel door.

It was the lab’s pumping station. Better yet, he’d seen the access port to the sewage system.

He’d made it down to the first floor, encountering only a few guards compared to the large number he knew this place was usually staffed, and disposed of them quickly. The majority of the humans were no doubt congregating by the main exits, expecting him to attempt the most obvious route to freedom and planned to take him down in full force there.

It was pitiful; the dominant species of the planet and yet so simple-minded.

As he rounded the corner and found the door he needed his heart soared. He skidded to a halt at the code box and punched in the numbers. To his relief, the door clicked open and he darted inside, the roar of hard pumping machines filling his ears and vibrating around him.

“It’s in the water station!” He heard someone shout as he slammed the door shut, brandished his claws and stabbed them straight into the code box at his side.  
Sparks flew as his claws crunched into the plastic and crushed the precious circuitry beneath it. He had no idea if it would actually keep them at bay, but at that point, anything was worth trying to give him a few extra minutes.

Heavy weights slammed against the door and he knew his time was limited. Breathing hard he scrambled against the tile and raced over to the one lone steel lid in the floor that he’d seen that fateful day.  
  
He forced his claws into the crack between the floor and metal and pried it from the ground revealing the sewage tunnels that the fools had left unguarded. They probably thought no one would ever make it this far, or maybe they’d set traps further in, but at that moment anything seemed better than the hell he’d been going through in the name of _science_. Besides…this was his territory, not theirs, traps or no traps, he had the advantage.

He hit the cement floor and bolted just as he heard the door above give way. “Shit!” Someone yelled, “It’s gone into the flood tunnels!”

“Ew, I’m not going in there.”

“Get your ass in there or-“

The voices faded as he ran, diving down every bend and twist the tunnels had to offer and shell was he pleased. His hunch had been right, the room he’d seen had been the control room for the massive amounts of water being pumped into the building and the tunnel he was in was the relief tunnels for said water when they drained it all in a mass washout. That meant that the water needed a place to go, and that place to go would need an entry point for workers in case of a leak or blockage, which meant a possibility of escape; regardless how small that possibility was or how well guarded the outfall sewer would be, it was a chance he was willing to take.

Soon the voices faded to nothing but a muffled murmur, but Donatello didn’t slow down. It was a trick, it was always a trick. He had to stay alert, had to keep focused and keep moving or they’d catch him. He’d learned that one the hard way…

He scrambled down another bend in the pipe, and then another, then another, the darkness stretching on for what felt like miles. The voices were still ringing, a faint echo now but he could hear them. Everything hurt, his lungs burning with each breath and legs begging him to stop. The tunnels twisted and turned, sending him deeper into the earth than he thought a sewer would ever go. He swore he saw a light once, but only once…It was like a maze, one that had no end.

As he ran the world around him grew colder, the ground growing damp under foot until he was splashing through ankle deep water. It was a good sign, that meant that a septic tank, or water basin, or maybe even a treatment plant would be up ahead; at least that’s what it always meant back home in the sewers. He just hoped it would be the same here.

The water grew deeper until it was up to his waist, the tunnel twisting down until it vanished beneath a wall of wet; it was exactly what he was looking for.

_‘Sometimes it’s good to be a turtle.’_ He took a deep breath and dove beneath the surface.

An icy cold engulfed him as he swam for the tunnel floor and followed its curve; his nictitating membranes protecting his eyes as he scanned the area. He touched the cement with his fingers every now and then when he thought he saw a crack that could’ve been the seal to an access hatch or another pipe, when a loud rumble vibrated through the water around him.

He paused mid swim, looking up into the darkness and felt the water begin to move around him, pulling at his body with a gentle tug. The sound diminished and then came back with a loud vibrating ring, diminished again and repeated. It wasn’t anything he was used to hearing, not even from back home. It was almost mechanical in sound, encompassing the whole tunnel, the vibrations amplified by the water.

Whatever it was he realized it had to be a pump of some kind, perhaps a lift station or a septic pump like the ones he’d seen in Northeast Queens. Either way it was better news than the sound or feel of electricity rushing towards him.

He decided to keep swimming, pushing onward towards the sound in hopes of an exit. At the end, there had to be a sewerage system with a hatch and a way out, there just had to be!

As he swam the water around him began to pick up speed, slowly at first so he barely noticed, pulling at him harder until it was too late and he realized that he didn’t need to swim at all; he was caught in its current.

Silently hoping it was just a gravity fed tunnel, he shifted his position and made sure he was facing feet first. He grabbed at the wall, attempting to slow his velocity and regain control so he wouldn’t miss an exit, when he realized that he couldn’t. The walls were smooth and the current was strong.

He clawed at the concrete that surrounded him, desperate to find purchase when the whirring grew louder and the walls around him transitioned seamlessly into metal. His eyes widened in realization, his heart leaping up into his throat. _Normal_ sewage and run off was held in a collection basin, sent to a water treatment plant, or drained into a water body like in the combined sewers of the city he’d grown up in.

But he wasn’t in Manhattan, he was in a _laboratory_ and, like an idiot, he’d forgotten that! He wasn’t heading for a septic tank…he was heading for a centrifugal pump, a device that broke up large pieces of debris BEFORE going into the chemical filtration tanks that would lead to the septic. Stupid. STUPID!

His desperation became pure panic as he was swept in deeper, his nails splintering as he scraped at the walls to regain control. The sounds around him grew louder, the vibrations beating against him when he felt a swish of something big through the water; it was too late.

A sickening crunch echoed in his head loud enough that he could feel it in his back molars. On reflex he opened his mouth to scream at the dual sensation of heavy metal blades cutting into his flesh from the outside, and what felt like thousands of jagged teeth gnawing their way out of his legs from the inside.

What parts of him could still move flailed wildly, consumed with hysteria as the machine continued to suck him in up to his knees. His scream came unheard as the blunt wheel of the grinder came down again, mashing the muscle and sinew of his calves and squeezing the battered flesh up into the joints of his kneecaps until he felt them burst through his skin like a popped zit, tainting the swirling water around him with a deep crimson.

He couldn’t see anything anymore, the sounds of rushing water and mechanical vibrations growing distant and hazy as he was pulled into the machine even further. What air he had left floated from his lungs as the heavy crusher came down atop his pelvis, the defining crack reverberating through him as his body was compressed like garbage in the back of a truck.

He gagged and snorted as water burned its way down his nostrils, a stark contrast to the heavy cold settling into his core as waves of searing pain ebbed violently up his spine. He tried to move his arms, to swim away from the sensation but for some reason only one would cooperate; the other floating lifelessly behind him.

His upper half jerked as his body fought for oxygen, he needed to breathe, NOW, and for the life of him he couldn’t remember why he shouldn’t do just that…

So he did.

  
\---------------------------

  
Dark. Everything was dark.

Why was that? He couldn’t recall. What had he been doing?

His thoughts were disturbed by the faintest of whispers… a familiar sound that panged his heart.

_‘Where are you, Donnie?’_

That voice, he knew that voice. He was sure of it.

_‘Leo? Is that you?’_

The voice kept talking but he couldn’t make out the words.

_‘What? I can’t hear you.’_

He wasn’t sure if he was asking the question in his head or actually speaking out loud, he lacked the energy to think on it too deeply.

He listened, hoping to hear the voice again, hoping that it hadn’t given up on finding him, when he realized there was more than one voice speaking. His brothers maybe? Were they all here, looking for him?

“-waking up.” He was able to make out. “-take. -Tank?”

Slowly the voices around him began to sound more clear and he cracked open a blurry eye.

“No, no, not yet. Like they say; when life gives you lemons, make lemonade.”

The pain hit him like a hot electric shock the moment the light did, surging through him with the force of a Freight train speeding away from hundreds of tiny pulse points throbbing all over his lower half. He whimpered, his throat hoarse and painful- a sure sign he’d been intubated while he’d been out.

Memories of his failed escape attempt came back to him in patchy fragments; the grinder pump, the panic that gave way as shock set in and he stupidly inhaled water as if it would soothe the ache in his lungs.

He should be dead… that would be a pleasant change of pace.

Instead he was back on Grail’s table, plastron down, where they had revived him once again. He didn’t dare try to move his head to look at his lower body, he didn’t want to see the mangled mess, didn’t need to see it to know he was beyond useless now…

“Why…” He choked through angry tears as his vision spun, “Why couldn’t you just let me die?”

The ginger haired demon appeared, kneeling down at eye level with a twisted smile on his face. “Because you’re my favorite, don’t you remember?” Grail whispered sweetly into Thirteen’s ear slit.

“I’m going to be sure to keep you alive for a very long time. Now, be a good turtle and hold still, won’t you?” He laughed, holding up what appeared to be a small sized wood boring hole-saw, “-This may hurt a bit.” The green eyed monster nodded to someone and R1-13 felt a soft something jammed between his teeth.

He cringed and cried out through the gag as a heavy weight pressed down against his carapace, jostling his legs, and held him still just as five fingered hands grabbed at his neck.

The loud screech of a drill filled the air above his head, and his eyes widened. He had half a panicked second to wonder just where the mad scientist was going to stick that thing when he felt it connect at the back of his shell.

He jerked as the drill began to burn into the top part of his carapace, right above the center of his shoulder blades and spine. Fresh waves of pain radiated through him as it felt like every bone fragment was attempting to dig its way through his flesh. He clenched his eyes closed and screamed, the smell of burnt keratin invading his senses and the whole world growing cold around him from the agony of Grail’s new torture.

“Now the key to this-“ He heard Grail shout over the screechy sounds his shell was making as the machine bore a hole straight through the thick scute, “Is to make a hole on either side of the spine, you want it to hold, but not to paralyze the subject.”

The searing pain didn’t end when Grail pulled the drill away, if anything it grew worse as he began to cut into his shell and make yet another hole.

Thirteen tried to move, to drag himself away from the screeching drill as it dug out a chunk of his body, but they held him too tightly.

“No, muh…peez.” He sobbed through the gag when finally the drilling ceased.

“Hand me the hooks.”

Despite the pain, Donnie’s eyes snapped open. _‘Hooks?’_  
  
His muffled protests were ignored.

Two thick hooks dug into the tender holes beside his spine and wrenched him upwards.

His screams filled the room as his body was lifted from the table. Someone pulled his gag out while others helped gently ease his body into the air.

“Make sure those IV’s stay in.” He somehow managed to hear Grail say, “And for the love of God Chapman, if you’re going to throw up then do it in the pail not on the- oh _come on!_ ”

Donatello whimpered as he hung in the air, his vision swimming in and out of focus as the white blurs he assumed were scientists shifted around the room. His head drooped, too heavy to hold up any longer as his stomach twisted and threatened to turn up the water he no doubt swallowed earlier when his heavy gaze rested on the one thing he’d been hoping to avoid- his legs.

Swollen, ripped apart with bits of bone sticking through a tattered mess of red and green coagulated flesh, lay his once long and agile limbs. His knees looked the worst; like they’d gone through a blender where the muscle and sinew had popped through his skin after being pulverized by the grinder, very much like a tube of toothpaste that burst after having too much pressure built up behind its cap.

His left arm was lifeless beside him, in better condition but since he couldn’t move it he knew either the muscles were ripped or he’d dislocated it when he’d flailed. His right arm was scraped up, but otherwise seemed fine.

The prognosis? It wasn’t good…He’d lost all use of his legs for sure…

The world spun as his stomach churned again, sending his vision spinning worse than before as he slipped into unconsciousness.

  
\------------

  
For days he hung from the hooks in the ceiling. At least he thought it was days. It could’ve been hours for all he knew, just dangling in the air over a collection tray like a slab of meat at the butchers. The putrid smell of decay and the coppery scent of blood was permanently stuck in his nose as his legs continued to deteriorate.

There was no mistaking it now, he was going to be crippled for the rest of his life. Maybe there had been a slight chance that they’d have been able to save at least part of his legs at one point, but that chance had long since come and gone. What was once olive green had now turned a necrotic purple, bloated from infection…He just wished he couldn’t feel them anymore. The same went for his arm, a bad dislocation that had no doubt ripped muscle and torn cartilage, leaving his right arm useless.

The pain was constant, an unbearable sharp jolt and aching throb that worsened when he attempted to move or when the humans touched his open wounds. Every day the scientists came, sometimes every ten to fifteen minutes, and they scraped the coagulated blood from his wounds onto petri dishes.

Shell did it hurt when they did that, and the worst part was, he wasn’t even sure why they were doing it; Pain was something he had grown accustomed to, but not knowing the reasoning behind it was beyond frustrating…

Most of Grail’s experiments made sense in some twisted way; like drowning him to find out how long he could hold his breath, keeping him awake while they cut into him to see how much he could tolerate and how much stress his body could endure, but this? This just seemed like senseless torture to him. Maybe Grail had finally lost his mind? Just like Donatello was sure he was about to do…

The longer he dangled in the dark smelly room, the more he began to hear voices, whispering in and out of his ear slits to the point that he’d begun searching for them, trying to figure out just what they were saying.

Once his hopes had soared when he thought he heard the voice of Casey Jones. Of all the people he could hallucinate…Sewer apples, he must be losing it; he actually missed that cave-mouthed moron…

Other times it was a disembodied whisper encouraging him to hang in there, to be strong, and other times…  
  
“Clever Salty boy~ May I eat you?”

Donatello huffed in annoyance and glared at the corner of the white walled room; the maroon colored homicidal plush toy clicking its claws together and licking its lips.

Eat him? Seriously? It would take a lot of seasoning, chopped vegetables and cheese to overpower the odorous funk that his shattered body was now emitting, but if he was being honest with himself, the beaver was one of his more interesting delusions as of late. Certainly preferable to the delirium induced visions of his family and friends shaking their heads in repulsion to his pseudo-incestuous fantasies.

Although, now that he was thinking about it, he’d prefer to be eaten, if nothing else than to put an end to all this. Just have the beaver pluck him up with a pair of chopsticks, dip him in some ponzu sauce and those grotesque legs of his would slide right down the homicidal castoroides’ gullet-

His heart clenched at the thought. Why had he thought that!? Of all the things, why!?

“Archimedes…” He whispered under his breath, “I’m so sorry.”

He shook his head. _‘No, think of something else, anything else- like my brothers! Yes, think of them. Think of them finding me, think of freedom. Think of Leo, of Raph, and of Mikey!’_ He paused mid-thought, an image of his baby brother coming to mind.

He was staring up at Donatello in horror, his face pale and eyes wide, trembling at the sight of the half-dead turtle dangling from the ceiling.

No…on second thought he didn’t want his brothers to rescue him just yet, and if they did, he sure as shell didn’t want Mikey to be present. No way he was going to the cause of his baby brother’s nightmares.

“You haven’t forgotten me, have you, my Salty boy~?”

Speaking of nightmares…

He sighed sadly and glanced at the hallucination in the corner, the beaver now laughing and slapping its tail against the concrete.

Had Grail finally grown tired of him? Normally the sick man would’ve healed him up so he could begin a new experiment. It had been days since his injury.

Perhaps his latest failure to escape had left the mad man so unimpressed that he decided to end his “fun” and just bleed him dry and let him rot? A shiver ran up his spine at that thought, sending shockwaves of pain throughout him as the muscles clenched up.

He didn’t want it to end like this! He wanted to go home, dammit! He wanted to snuggle into his father’s robes, he wanted to listen to Leo rave about _‘Space Heroes’_ , he wanted to see the gleam in Mikey’s eyes as he was about to try a new, albeit disgusting, pizza topping combo, and shell, he wanted to see the look on Raph’s face when he finally added those upgrades to the stealth bike he’s been planning for ages but never got around to!

He didn't want to die here like some _‘Night Terror on Maple Ave’_ cliché! But he didn't want his brothers to have to bring home a useless cripple either…and he sure as shell didn't want to spend his last moments dangling from a meat hook, waiting for sepsis to finally kick in.

He closed his eyes, wondering just how he could possibly escape this disaster when he heard the door to the room open and multiple gasps filled the air. Donnie’s heart skipped a beat and his head snapped up, recognizing the sounds of his brothers and found them, all of them, even his father standing in the doorway. It was his family, they were there, they found him!

His mind began to race, mulling over every possibility on how to fix his legs: Maybe Splinter’s Healing Hands technique could spare him enough that they wouldn’t need to be completely amputated? Maybe Mikey wouldn’t be as traumatized as he thought he would be? Maybe they could, could…

His brothers didn’t move from the door, they were just staring at him, wide-eyed and horrified.

He rolled his eyes. He couldn’t help it. Yes it was a gruesome sight to take in, but they needed to snap out of it and get him down _now_ before the scientists showed up and tried to catch them all!

...Unless his brothers managed to kill everyone? Oooh, he wanted to see that.

“Leo!” He croaked out, his throat dry and raspy from his lack of speaking, “Leo please, help.”

Leonardo blinked and took an uneasy step back. He turned to Master Splinter, the calm old rat now stroking his beard in contemplation. “That thing can fucking _talk?_ ”

Splinter smiled and nodded. “Indeed. Intelligence is one of the many aspects these magnificent creatures hold.”

And with that Donatello’s heart sank. He mentally kicked himself, of course his brothers weren’t there. Leo would burn all of his _‘Space Heroes’_ comics before he dropped the F-bomb on their father who would certainly not be chuckling about it. Donnie really was growing tired of these hallucinations, especially the kind that Grail created…

“Come on, come, I promise you it’s quite safe.” Master Splinter promised them as he walked into the room. One by one the turtles followed, curiously eyeing Donatello as he dangled from the hook.

“Now, this is our collection room.” The rat continued, “Normally we have about five or six specimens hooked up at a time, but this one is currently in solitary for mental evaluation as well as blood collections.”

Raphael cocked an eyeridge. “So, this is how you pull the stuff that makes the mutants out of their blood?”

Looking quite proud, Grail, currently the perfect image of Master Splinter in Donatello’s drug addled brain, nodded. “Why yes. Yes it is. This one managed to get into the water pipes and tangled with our grinder pump, which as you can see, did not end well for him. So instead of healing him up we simply put him to use. Once enough blood has pooled, we allow it to sit and coagulate; during this process, the blood proteins start to separate from the mutagenic chemical compounds, which makes it easier for extraction in our centrifuges.”

Apart from wanting to claw Grail’s eyes out right then and there, he couldn’t help but utter a small, ‘Oh’, in understanding.

They wanted mutagen, and with the Kraang gone, pickings were slim. A live mutant who could produce blood was more valuable than a corpse.

The fake Master Splinter and the images of his brothers drew closer, the old rat pointing out his injuries and going into depth on the damage. They were his financial backers for sure, ones who Grail felt were important enough to protect by having the turtle drugged before bringing them in; perhaps the mental case was growing concerned that Thirteen may actually escape one day and kill them? Now that would be a treat.

“And here you can see autolysis of the epidermis has already begun.” Said Splinter excitedly, pointing at Donatello’s legs like they were on display at a museum. The jerk… “You can see exposed bone here, that bit of discoloration is the beginning stages of Osteomyelitis, and _oh_! Look here; infection has set in and begun to eat away at this bit of calf muscle- in a few days it should melt off the bone like pork in a slow cooker. Even with today’s modern medicine, there would be no way to save the legs- they’d have to come off.”

The three turtles ‘oohed’ and ‘awed’, his fake brothers gathering around him like he were some kind of deranged piñata. It was humiliating, and more infuriatingly than anything was knowing that these people understood he was intelligent and yet they were still gladly poking at him without a single care.

“But wait, there’s more!” The fake Splinter announced like some type of peppy salesman showing off his merchandise. “As you can see, this arm has been badly dislocated-“ The thin fingers touched the swollen skin but Donnie barely felt it, it had grown numb from disuse some time ago. “-the muscle is attempting to heal around the bone and warping itself in the process. Only surgical intervention and muscle grafts will be able to save it.”

Donatello barely had the energy to glare at Grail Properly as the man moved behind him.

“And here you can actually see through the shell to the muscle underneath. We’ve kept him hanging by these hooks to keep the blood flowing. Consequently, we needed to drill holes through the shell which is made up of several fused bones layered with keratin.”

He barely felt it as the image of Master Splinter brushed his scutes and moved around him.

“Bloated, distorted, infectious and deteriorating.” He continued, “This is what real war looks like. Please, please!” The old rat gestured to Donatello’s body, “Have a closer look, touch it, feel how necrotic the tissue has become.”

Some gloves were pulled from his robe and handed out to the turtles who quickly accepted them and stuffed their three fingered hands into them.

Leonardo seemed to want the gloves just to have them between him and the rancid bag of flesh on the hook; the curled lip of disgust and look on his face was enough to tell him that. While Mikey and Raph seemed a little too eager to get a closer look.

All Donnie could do was hang there like Raph’s punching dummy at home as the fake turtle in red approached and reached behind him, grabbing a fist full of his sore infected tail.

Shell, he wished he had something in his stomach just so he could vomit on them out of spite…

Instead, he glowered at them, the pain spidering through his body like thousands of tiny glass shards being dragged along his skin as they poked and prodded. A few flashes made him flinch, adding insult to injury as he realized they were taking pictures to document his humiliation.

He groaned inwardly, trying his best to remain silent and prevent giving Grail any satisfaction, when Michelangelo grabbed hold of his left calf and twisted it up towards his thigh in the opposite direction his legs were supposed to bend.

He couldn’t help it, he screamed; his head ripping back in an agonizing cry that he felt shake the very hooks in his back.

The squelching crunching sound his leg made as it bent was barely heard over his wails, but there was little to no resistance as the flesh and bone was manhandled.

Raph whistled in appreciation over Donatello’s sobs. “That really is broken beyond repair. It’ll have to be amputated.” He murmured, “There’s no fixin that.”

“Oh?” Asked Splinter, smiling happily down at the fake brothers. “Would you care to make a wager on that?”

Mikey snorted, “Name it. There’s no way you’re fixing that type of damage.”

“You’re good, but you’re not _that_ good.” Added Leo.

Donatello practically sobbed in relief as Michelangelo released his leg, allowing the squelching flesh to swing back into its previous place.

“However,” Leo continued, “If you can actually deliver on the promises you’ve made, then you can count on our full financial support. We’ll even supply you with some mutants we’ve caught ourselves over the years.”

The Splinter version of Grail smiled widely. “I do hope none of you gentlemen visit Vegas anytime soon, because I promise you won’t be disappointed- I’ve been in business for over twenty years and have never lost a bet when it comes to my research.”

Still shaking from the pain, Donatello found himself fixated on what Grail had just said, and not the part where he claimed he could fix his beyond repair legs.

Grail had been at this for over _twenty years._

He and his brothers had only mutated seventeen years ago. He’d known that the Kraang had been around experimenting with mutagen on their planet for centuries, but it had never occurred to him to wonder exactly how long humans had been aware of mutants and seen them as mutations instead of demons and monsters of lore…Just how long had this _business_ been around?

His jaw tightened. If Thirteen ever got out, no, _when_ he got out of there, because his brothers were coming for him, he was going to find Kurtzman and ask him to do some digging. Shell, they could even bring Bishop in on this! The three of them combined could quickly crack down on every slimeball involved in Grail’s so-called research and run them into the ground!

Even as the fake Splinter and his brothers left, laughing about a round of drinks, Donatello found himself renewed.

“Just you wait, Grail.” He whispered as the lights went out, leaving him hanging alone and in the dark. “I’ll get out of here one way or another, and when I do you’re going to wish you had killed me. I’m going to bury you and everything you’ve built. Then when you have nothing left and your precious life is in shambles, then and _only_ then, will I put you out of your misery. Slowly. Painfully. The only way you deserve.”

A small chuckle rose from his chest. Maybe it was the blood loss, or maybe it was the infection fueled fever, but slowly his chuckle grew until he was cackling out loud. He hacked and coughed between laughs but he didn’t care, he ignored the pain and ignored his battered lungs desperate plea to stop and breathe and simply kept laughing.

He didn’t know what was funnier, Grail being woefully unprepared for the world of hurt he planned to rain down upon his pathetic human head once he was free, or the sight of Dark Beaver, still in his corner, now cowering at the sight of the turtle slowly losing his grip on his sanity…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please bear with us, Ikara is doing battle with all sorts of crazy weather and i'm dealing with the terrible 2's a year early T_T


End file.
